The Hero Strikes Back
by Beth Weasley
Summary: The movies showed us a mild Darth Vader, but we all know that Anakin's emotions affected him greatly. Learning about Luke gives Vader a kick in the pants, rather than a mere nudge toward the Light Side. Not dead, just on hold due to pro writing work
1. Chapter 1

This is my first posted Star Wars fic, but the concept has been stewing in my head for quite some time. I've always thought that the movies portray Vader's discovery of his betrayal by Palpatine as being a really mild reaction, like he was just nudged towards the Light Side. In this story, Vader is much more affected by his emotions, which is how I've always seen Anakin/Vader. Learning about Luke is more like a kick in the pants this time. Any dates or time intervals like weeks that appear are in accordance with the Galatic Standard calendar, which has ten months (each 35 days or seven weeks long), three festival weeks, and three holiday days. Much of my background for Piett was drawn from the Wookieepedia, though the part about being a slicer is my idea. I don't own the characters, of course. I'm not Mr. Lucas, for Force's sake!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 1

Captain Firmus Piett shifted the duffel's strap on his shoulder, nervous about his new post. He'd done a great deal of commanding at home, on and around Axxila, but this was different; this was the _Executor_, the brand-new flagship of the Imperial Navy.

Much of his Imperial service had centered on the Ciutric Sector and was therefore minor—at least in Firmus' eyes. After all, Rebels tended to keep their heads down in the Hegemony. He'd made it so that the pirates kept their heads down, too.

He'd had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since his orders had come through six standard months ago. Since then, much had occurred, and the changes made him even more jittery.

The cascade of events had started when Emperor Palpatine dissolved the Senate. The Rebels had retaliated, and then rumor spread that Grand Moff Tarkin was holding Princess Leia Organa captive. Just days after the rumor reached Firmus, the Moff had unveiled a gigantic battle station and destroyed Alderaan, the Princess' pacifist home planet. A week later, the Rebels had attacked the _Death Star_ battle station somewhere in the Outer Rim, and by some miracle destroyed it before it could get them. The HoloNet News was keeping reports of the battle to an absolute minimum, but the death toll was undoubtedly massive; the station had probably housed well over a million troops and the civilians needed for support. Darth Vader was among the handful of survivors, due to the integration of a hyperdrive on his personal TIE, which he had used to get to a portion of the fleet.

Despite all of this turmoil, the galaxy seemed to be holding its collective breath. Piett had the feeling that something was going to trigger a massive change in the status quo, and soon.

The turbolift door hissed open and Firmus inhaled deeply. The _Executor_ smelled strongly of paint, solvent, and ozone, and he suspected that the scent would linger for a standard year, or more. He loved that new-ship smell.

The only real drawback he saw in this berth was the man who would be in charge of the massive lady. Piett doubted that there was a single person aboard who wasn't intimidated by the commander.

Darth Vader was the ultimate authority on the _Executor_.

* * *

The first command staff meeting had been strained, to put the situation mildly. Because his service had been almost exclusively in the Ciutric Sector, Firmus had no reports to make. Evidently, the Hegemony was considered a "safe sector," and he would have to prove himself to the other officers before he was allowed to play. It was somewhat amusing to see such an attitude from men who were ten years or more younger than Firmus.

Feigning a respect he did not feel towards the younger officers, Piett listened, keeping one eye on whoever was speaking and the other on Lord Vader.

* * *

Three standard weeks passed before Lord Vader seemed to even notice Firmus. The captain was wandering, exploring the bowels of the _Executor_ when the cloaked Sith Lord swept into view from another direction, his usual bodyguard of stormtroopers trailing him silently.

"Captain Piett." Firmus snapped to attention, his bootheels clicking. "Find everything you can on the Rebel pilot that destroyed the _Death Star_. You report directly to me until further notice."

"Yes, my lord!" His hand rose to his brow in a crisp salute and remained there, his entire being as still as cast duracrete. He maintained the position until he could no longer see the dark form, then he turned and sprinted for his quarters. He knew that the HoloNet terminal there was untapped, and that no one would be able to track where he went through it.

Naturally, it proved futile to find anything on the imperially-maintained public channels. Instead, Firmus turned to the illegal Rebel Alliance network he had found a few years earlier. He was glad that he'd created a permanent access point for himself on the channel, because working through the normal process would have taken ages. He simply didn't have the luxury of time.

Few people in the galaxy had ever known of his teenage years as a professional slicer. Of course, those who had dealt with him then had never known his age or real name. He'd kept his skills sharp even after he "retired," and the effort had rewarded him more than once. It was how he'd found the Rebel network in the first place.

When Lord Vader summoned him two days later, Firmus had printed out a half-centimeter stack of flimsy with the data he'd found, the original copies saved to his personal datapad and erased from the ship's databanks. It contained the entire life histories of five beings, the only survivors of the thirty snubfighters and one freighter that had assaulted the battle station in order to destroy it.

When he arrived in Darth Vader's "office," Firmus locked his knees to prevent them from trembling. Long habit had him mentally cataloging the room's contents, which were few: a desk with a console and hoverchair, a glass urn of sand, and a group of tiny model starships that seemed to cover every type of vessel in the Imperial Navy. When his commander folded his arms across his chest, he began his report.

"One Y-wing and two X-wings survived the attack, as well as a Corellian freighter. The data I gathered indicated that one of the X-wings fired the fatal torpedo, and the pilot's name is Luke Skywalk-" Firmus was cut off by a wordless roar erupting from the Sith Lord. The urn cracked open, spilling sand that began to spin through the air. The shelves of miniatures crashed to the floor, the tiny ships whirling through the small sandstorm.

For five terrifying minutes, Piett was surrounded by madness. The sound from Lord Vader was almost painful, and it was a struggle not to cower and shield his head. Still, he remained upright as Vader paced to one wall and hit it with a gloved fist. The impact left a five-centimeter deep dent in the metal. This seemed to trigger the end of the storm, as the sandstorm shrank, sweeping all the sand and models into a corner. Vader resumed his seat, then gestured for Piett to continue.

"He is eighteen, raised on Tatooine by an aunt and uncle until their recent deaths. At that point, he vanishes from Imperial records. He came up in the Rebel network, hailed as 'the hero of Yavin,' and I was able to pull this holo from their records." He placed a small holoprojector on the desk, where it displayed the young man with three others; a Wookiee and two men who looked Corellian. Skywalker was clearly identified by his tanned skin and suns-bleached hair. The older of the other two, the one with the Wookiee's hand on his shoulder, wore ceremonial bloodstripes on his trousers. While the third man did not have the stripes, he was obviously battle-tested, as he and Skywalker both wore the orange flightsuits of Rebel pilots.

"You have his Imperial record?" Lord Vader asked. A gloved hand reached out.

"Yes, milord. Also, those of the others in the image and the Y-wing pilot." Piett placed the scant findings in the waiting hand, then stood at ease.

Firmus waited with a patience born of long experience as the records were visually scanned. Finally, Darth Vader shifted in the hoverchair.

"Keep an eye out for news of the boy, Captain. Inform me of any developments."

"Yes, milord." Piett saluted, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. As he returned to his quarters, something about the boy's surname began to nudge at something in the back of his mind. He found the sensation incredibly annoying, and he was blasted if he wasn't going to find out the reason behind it.

* * *

As soon as the office door closed behind Captain Piett, Vader stood and hurled the hoverchair against the wall.

_He **lied **to me!_ His fury twisted the chair into unrecognizable scraps, and the sand and models began to fly about again. _He said I'd killed my Angel and the baby, but now I find out our child—our boy—yet lives. I'll tear the old manipulator limb from limb!_ Then, as suddenly as the rage had appeared, it vanished without a trace.

_I almost killed my own son… If it hadn't been for that pirate freighter, I would have._ He sank to the floor. _The last of my Angel, all that's left of her. Force protect him, please._

An old memory arose, one he'd thought lost along with the man that had been Anakin Skywalker: talking with his beloved, choosing their child's name. She'd chosen Luke, in case it was a boy. Had she lived long enough to name him, or had she told Obi-Wan of the choice? He would probably never know, with the old man dead.

* * *

Firmus had finally dug up the source of his knowledge of the Skywalker name. Now he had two holos projected on the surface of his desk. One was the group shot he'd shown Lord Vader. The other was nearly twenty years old.

How could he possibly have forgotten his teenage adoration of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker? It had taken almost two hours for him to turn to his personal files, including his old slicing logs.

With the two images side by side, the resemblance between Anakin and Luke was unmistakable. If he remembered right, the older holo had been taken when Anakin had been just a year or three older than Luke was now. Still, things weren't adding up completely. The Jedi Order had pretty much forbidden personal attachments, let alone the sort of liaison that would have lead to a child. At least, not the central core of the Order, the knights and masters that had trained and served from the great Temple on Coruscant. Even if the Jedi had simply satisfied the biological urge to reproduce, his surname wasn't likely to have been mentioned to the other party, let alone been given to the child without the Temple's say-so. Two, the younger Skywalker's birth record—and it was the most basic form, not even listing his parents—showed that he had been born almost a week after the Temple's destruction.

Firmus' best guess was that Knight Skywalker, a known rogue among those trained on Coruscant, might have had a secret, ongoing relationship with someone. Then, when the knight vanished from the records, the woman had stressed herself into labor.

Knight Skywalker's disappearance struck Firmus as being decidedly odd. There was no record of a body, a funeral, not even one of the brief notices that had been given for the Jedi slain during the Purge. And Darth Vader appeared some two weeks after the youngling's birth, clad in the black suit and mask that no one ever saw him without.

The timing seemed rather convenient.

Piett's comlink chirped, and he hastened to shut down his datapad securely as he answered.

"Captain, you have a high-priority message in the ready room."

"On my way," he replied, tucking the compact pad into the hidden pocket inside his jacket.

Within moments of entering the ready room, Firmus was on his knees before the image of the Emperor. _Why the blazes am I being called on **live holocomm** by the **Emperor?**_

"Captain, it has come to my attention that Lord Vader has designated you as something of a personal aide," said the heavily cloaked figure. "You are going to report to me on his actions and decisions, both on and off the bridge. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, your majesty." How could he have possibly answered otherwise? Still, he would _not _be a spy or a turncoat, not to his direct commander.

"Good. You will soon receive instructions on who to contact with your reports and when. You serve the Empire well, Captain." The connection terminated in a brief burst of static.

_Spast! How am I supposed to tell Lord Vader that the Emperor has ordered me to spy on him? I'm farkled!_ There was no question of _not_ informing Lord Vader. He knew the order of _his_ priorities.

He left the ready room and strode calmly towards the office he'd left only hours earlier.

* * *

He'd rampaged through his quarters, destroying anything that he could move, whether or not it was bolted down. Anything fabric or upholstered had been shredded, save for the seat along the long viewport, recessed into the bulkhead. Now he sat on the floor among the wreckage, feeling utterly drained. The door chimed insistently, and he rose wearily before triggering the mechanism with a tendril of the Force.

"Milord, forgive my intrusion," Captain Piett blurted, stepping in just far enough for the door to close and dropping to one knee. Vader could feel mingled resignation, disgust, sadness, and a tiny bit of fear, all practically rolling off the man.

"What is the problem, Captain. You are not one to panic." The captain started at his observation. "I make a point of examining my officers' backgrounds… thoroughly."

"I… I have just come from a holocomm conversation with the Emperor. He wishes for me to spy on you." The Axxilan paused. "I am loyal first to those under my command, and second to he who commands me. My government is a distant third."

"In other words, you'd rather disobey Palpatine than me." Piett nodded miserably, and Vader became pensive. "So the old man no longer trusts his slave. And none too soon, since I know of his treachery." He glanced at the captain, still trembling where he knelt on the floor. "You have nothing to fear from me, Firmus Piett. Your mind is sharp, sharper than many of your 'superiors' on this vessel, and I know of your formidable reputation in the Hegemony. Stand up, man," he urged.

Piett hesitated momentarily, but obeyed. He seemed taken aback by the state of the office and the rooms it now opened into, with one wall retracted into itself.

"Is something amiss, milord?"

"Only that I have been deceived for two decades. Have you done any further research on Skywalker?"

"A bit, milord. Something about the name was familiar, and I found a reference in some of my old logs. I believe I have discovered who the youngling's father is." He withdrew a datapad from a hidden pocket—Vader recognised a very advanced model that had been further modified—and brought up a file with a few taps. "Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, 'The Hero With No Fear.' I recognised the surname, and there's no mistaking the resemblance between them."

As Vader accepted the datapad and looked at the old holo, he was somewhat shocked. Had that really been _his_ face once? But Piett was right; Luke was his spitting image, though not nearly so jaded as he had been.

"The Purge record on Skywalker is abnormally vague, though," the captain continued. "There aren't many like it. No notice, no funeral… it's like he just vanished into thin air, and I find it suspicious."

He sighed heavily, causing his vocoder to make a strange buzzing sound.

"Sit down, Captain." He gestured to the viewport seat. "You may find it difficult to believe what I am about to tell you. Including myself, you will make three living beings in the entire Empire who know this information. My life depends on it remaining secret." And so he told the captain about himself… about Anakin Skywalker.

* * *

Firmus had eyes and ears only for the black-clad man who paced the room as he spoke of a life nearly forgotten. His teenage role model was _right here_, was his commander! The very thought almost made him burst with pride.

Lord Vader finished, telling of waking from massive surgery only to be told by the Emperor that he'd killed his wife and child. Firmus was filled with fury and indignation on his commander's behalf.

"So… the truth comes out at last. I'm glad I came to report about the Emperor's orders, milord."

"As am I, Firmus." The masked man paused. "I temporarily assigned you as my aide, but would you mind my making it permanent? I need someone I know that I can trust."

The captain smiled and extended a hand. "I'd be honored, milord."

"Excellent." A gloved hand grasped his and shook it. "As for Sidious' spy games, let's play along. We'll feed him what we want him to know."

"We should get you out of that suit, too, sir. I wish there was a way to, I don't know, clone limbs and organs." The mask swiveled to focus on Firmus.

"There is. The cloners of Kamino have been providing the majority of the stormtroopers since the beginning of the Clone Wars. We call them stormtroopers now, but they were clone troopers then. There are only a few original people among them, usually in command positions."

"Then… couldn't they replace what has been damaged beyond your body's ability to repair? New limbs, maybe some of the more damaged organs?"

"I'd have asked them to do it years ago, if Sidious had not forbidden me to go to the planet. He swore he'd destroy me if I did. Before now, I've not had anyone I could trust to go in my stead without betraying me." Firmus grinned.

"I can go under the pretense that you want some modifications to your personal guard. If the data they need can fit in a small cylinder or a box about the size of my datapad, no one will know that I took anything beyond the list of modifications."

"Yes. We'll wait until you're contacted by Sidious' messenger. Meanwhile, I'll get what Lama Su will need."

* * *

Three days later, Piett received the promised message from the Emperor's staff. He recorded a brief response detailing his false mission, being brief and giving the impression that he knew nothing about the modifications yet. When Lord Vader looked over it, he seemed quite pleased.

"Take my fighter, Captain," he insisted. "It's the swiftest of the small vessels available, and there's no need for a copilot. There's an astromech hard-wired into its systems, and it can do most of the work."

"Thank you, milord. I'll return as soon as possible."

* * *

The distance to Kamino surprised Piett once he found out about it. It was even further out than Axxila and Tatooine, and in a region that required a roundabout hyperspace journey. All told, the trip took some twenty hours each way, even with the massive hyperdrive in the TIE Advanced. During the trip, he occupied himself by reading the files he'd loaded on his datapad, which contained information about many of the people his commander had mentioned as important figures in his life.

Many of the people he had named were dead. Senator Amidala's death and funeral had been well-documented. Representative Binks had been killed during a Senate riot only a few months later. Bail Organa had been on Alderaan when it was destroyed, but he had been survived by his daughter, Leia, who had taken his place as one of the foremost leaders of the Rebellion.

_Wait… I think Leia was the name that they'd chosen in case the baby was a girl…_ Puzzled, Firmus pulled up holos of both Amidala and the princess, placing them together as he had done with Luke and Anakin's pictures. Again, the similarities were almost frightening. And Princess Leia had the same birthdate as Luke. _The odds of her being unrelated while looking that much like Amidala, **and** being born on the same day… But why would someone separate twins, especially if they were Force-sensitive?_

Wait until Lord Vader heard about _this_.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. You guys respond a lot faster than the people on the Harry Potter section! And more of you respond, too. Thanks so much. Here's another chapter. It's kind of long, but I think I chose a good stopping point. I have something like ten more pages handwritten, but I've got bunches of notes on where I'm going, so I shouldn't be too long in getting more up. Again, thanks. All dates and time intervals areaccording to the galactic calendar I found on Wookieepedia. I hope this chapter adequately conveys my perception of the Jedi Order and my instinctive response to the Council's policies.

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 2

An odd sense of relief washed through him when he received Piett's message that he had completed the mission and was on his way back to the _Executor_. Already the man was quite valuable to him, just based on his intelligence. Swapping ideas with the soft-spoken officer was going to be interesting, and probably quite fruitful.

However, he doubted Piett would be any assistance with his current dilemma. Frag it all, he could probably short out a psych-droid from across the room without even touching the Force, the way he was at the moment!

The problem was that he wasn't sure just who he was anymore. The only thing he was sure of was that Sidious' unswervingly loyal and obedient killing-machine slave was no more. But how could he ever be a noble Jedi Knight again, after all he'd done, all the pain and suffering he had caused?

It was enough to make him wonder if Qui-Gon had been wrong about him from the start. Wasn't the Chosen One supposed to _balance_ the Force, not destroy it? But, then again, the Jedi Master surely hadn't meant to die fighting Darth Maul before he could teach his small protégé anything. Then he wondered, _What would have happened if I'd been Qui-Gon's pupil, if Obi-Wan hadn't had to step in?_

"Well, I was beginning to think you'd never ask that question, youngling."

The familiar voice shocked him to the core of his being, and he nearly fell as he looked about for its source. A luminous mist began to coalesce beside him, soon becoming a translucent image of a sorely missed friend.

"I've been waiting nearly nineteen years for you to think of me, when I wasn't giving lessons to Obi-Wan and Yoda. I almost thought you'd forgotten me."

"Master Qui-Gon? How… you're a ghost? I thought that.."

"I'm more of a spirit using the Force to project myself into a semi-physical form. Obi-Wan's still working on it, but he may manage it before the year is out. You had me worried for a while, youngling." The spirit put a hand on his shoulder, and he could almost feel the pressure and warmth through his thick life-support suit. "I'm still terribly sorry that I left you and Obi-Wan in such a situation. None of the other Jedi I've ever known could feel the Living Force as you and I do, not even Obi-Wan, and its teachings had been lost to the core of the Order. I think maybe the Corellian Temple was closest, but I had no connections there, and the Council would never have allowed me to take you or Obi-Wan there to be taught."

"What do you mean, Master? I've never heard of the Living Force."

"You remember the basic theory of the energy field?" He nodded. "It works for most, usually the everyday Knights more than anyone else. There is more to it, though, a will and the ability to work through some of us to change the path of the future. Despite what the Council and the core of the Order believed, the Living Force, this expanded sense of the Force, it _requires_ emotions, both negative and positive, though it works better through the positive emotions.

"The Code of the Living Force emphasizes the importance of love and caring, tempering a Jedi's attachments to ward against the dangers of jealousy and possessiveness. The Temple on Coruscant lost those teachings more than a millennium ago because so few there could sense the Living Force. They forgot about its need for emotion and began to deny all of it, which only accelerated their fall. _That_ was why they never understood you, my padawan."

Warmth spread through him as he heard his first mentor use the old term. It had been so long since he'd heard it, let alone been called someone's padawan.

"They wanted me to just abandon Mother to the Tuskens, to ignore my visions." That betrayal of his only family, his absence when he'd been so desperately needed, still hurt.

"I know, youngling. I saw, and I tried to tell them that you _had _to be there for her, but I hadn't learned how to make myself heard yet. Unlike the Corellians, they had no inkling of the power in familial love. You were supposed to combat the emotional withdrawal, but Palpatine manipulated you to the other extreme."

They were both silent for the next few minutes. Then Anakin gathered his courage to ask the question whose answer he most feared.

"Was… was it my love for Padmé that tipped the scales?"

"Frag, no, youngling," the spirit replied, chuckling. "I saw _that_ coming almost as soon as you two first set eyes on each other at Watto's place. You two were meant to be. It was Palpatine that changed the balance, by exploiting your few insecurities. None of what happened has been your fault, Anakin."

A gentle, more relaxed silence fell. Finally, gleaming black armor shifted as the expressionless mask focused on the ghostly Jedi Master.

"Teach me what I should have learned as your padawan, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled, and Anakin could feel the other man's heart and mind opening to him. It reminded him how often he had wished, while the Jedi was alive, that Qui-Gon had been his father.

* * *

Firmus pushed open the hatch of the TIE Advanced and began to climb out, but paused as he saw the ensign waiting for him. When the young man saluted, he returned the gesture.

"Sir, the Admiral has excused you from debriefing and wishes to inform you that there are two high-priority messages awaiting you in your quarters." Firmus grimaced inwardly, but didn't let it show.

"Thank you, ensign. Dismissed." The pasty little man saluted again and dashed off on some other errand.

As grimy as the long flight made him, Piett dutifully checked his messages straight away. One was from his contact to the Emperor.

Piett:

Forward details of clone modifications immediately.

DS

_Well, I expected that. Laserbrain has to know how best to get to his apprentice to destroy him when he outlives his usefulness._ The thought was bitter. So few people cared about his lordship… Of course, there _were_ a few who _did_, as his trip had shown him. It had surprised him when one of the Kaminoans, named Taun We, had asked him to pass on a rather heartwarming message.

The second message had a markedly different tone.

Firmus:

I have an unusual guest at the moment that no one aboard knows about. I'll get in touch with you at my first opportunity after you've returned.

Hero

_Quite a change from the person I left here,_ he thought. Who could be visiting without the crew knowing that would have made such a difference in his commander? Resigning himself to waiting for Vader to tell him, Piett turned toward the 'fresher, shedding his flightsuit as he walked. He could almost hear the sonic shower calling him.

Half a standard hour later, he was feeling much better as he roughly dried his fine, dark blond hair. The Kaminoans had pampered him in their own way—they'd even requested a genetic sample for their perpetual experiments—but nothing compared to one's own quarters after they'd been broken in.

He dressed casually, with a thought to using the nearest fitness sector. He'd just tossed the towel into the cleaning chute when the door chimed.

"Come in," he called absently. He heard the door swish open, pause, then close again. Only then did he hear the respirator. "Milord!" He quickly took a knee.

"Relax, Firmus." Lord Vader's voice was both stronger and somehow kinder than the last time he had heard it. "How was your trip?"

"Your fighter is rather remarkable, milord. The trip would probably have take twice as long in a _Lambda_-class shuttle. The cloners were excited about your project, and I was asked to pass on a few messages by a Taun We." He held out the datachip he'd been given.

Lord Vader took the chip, then waved idly and took a seat on the wide couch that occupied most of Firmus' front room.

"Sit down, Firmus. I made sure there wasn't any surveillance equipment in here, so you can drop the formalities. Please?"

That almost did him in. Lord Vader being casual was one thing, but he never asked politely. Doing that rather than ordering felt rather creepy to Firmus.

"If you'll excuse a personal comment, sir…" He waited for a brief nod before continuing. "You've changed while I was away. Who is this guest to make such a difference?" He almost felt like his commander was smiling, though, of course, his face couldn't be seen.

"I told you about the Jedi Master who found and freed me. He's learned how to become one with the Force and retain his identity, so that he can manifest as a sort of ghost. He's been working with me for several days now, teaching me about the Living Force."

"I take it that this is somehow different than what you were taught at the Temple."

"Yes, well, the main Temple lost a lot of knowledge about the Living Force a long time ago, so they were unable to help me deal with my much larger sense of the Force. To me, it's practically a sentient being, but they didn't sense that. Qui-Gon was actually denied a seat on the council because he was 'too interested' in the Living Force, even though the Corellian Jedi knew more about it. They wouldn't let him study there, either."

"So, your visitor is a man more than thirty years dead." Some of his skepticism must have been evident in his voice, because Vader laughed.

"It sounds kind of crazy, but yes. What I'm learning is, well, indescribable. Parsecs beyond what Yoda and Obi-Wan taught me." There was a brief pause. "You discovered something while you were gone, didn't you?"

"You remember Bail Organa, sir?" Piett began, pulling out his datapad and calling up the two holos. "Well, his daughter, Leia, was apparently adopted, and she shares her birthdate with Luke, as well as an uncanny resemblance to Senator Amidala…"

* * *

Piett could have smacked him with a mynock and he would have been less surprised. Not only was he a father, but he had _twins_. And they were both obviously Force-sensitive; it was no wonder the princess had resisted the interrogation droid as well as she had. As far as he had ever known, Force-sensitive twins had been very rare, even during the most prosperous periods of the Order's existence.

"Skywalker strikes again, eh, padawan?" Qui-Gon materialized, a hand on his shoulder. Anakin looked up at his mentor, groaned, and buried his mask in his hands. He could feel Piett's shock from across the room.

Qui-Gon might as well have hit them _both_ with a mynock.

If he had, it would have been easier to deal with.

* * *

It was several minutes before either of them could think normally again. Then the spectre was introduced to Piett, and they began to discuss Princess Leia's obvious relation to Padmé.

"I don't know why no one noticed it before now," Firmus complained. "She even has a similar personality. The only real difference is a matter of style, and if Senator Amidala was still around, I would think she'd be dressing similarly."

"Except that she's just as stubborn as I am," Lord Vader grumbled. "That's about the only thing I can see that she didn't get from her mother."

"Naboo never was a major player in galactic politics, except for the incident with the Trade Federation. They weren't even among the middling players," Qui-Gon countered, ignoring the Chosen One, who seemed to be contemplating the benefits of beating his head against the bulkhead. "Padmé tended to stay in the background, at least publicly." He shot a knowing glance at his protégé. "There were few people who even really noticed her when she was away from her homeworld, despite the flashy chromium-plated ships she traveled in. Even after her term as Queen was over, her people insisted that she be treated as one. Naboo loved her almost as much as my padawan did."

When the commander looked up at the ghost, Firmus just knew that he was glaring. Apparently he didn't like to be teased, at least not about his wife.

"So what are we going to do about the twins?" he asked, trying to relieve the momentary tension. "I mean, of course they need to be protected from the Emperor, but will you let them know that their father is alive, milord?"

The response was the buzz that Firmus figured was a sigh, followed by some colorful curses in Huttese. "I want to be part of their lives, desperately, but there's so much bad history in the way. Sithspawn, I _tortured_ Leia, and I nearly killed Luke! They'll never forgive me. I don't deserve it."

Qui-Gon visibly raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though pleading some higher being for patience. "What have I told you about pessimism, Anakin?" he chided. "Maybe working up letters of apology to each of them will help you forgive yourself."

"How can I forgive myself? I've destroyed so many lives in the last eighteen years. The younglings at the Temple, the Purge… I've done unforgivable things, Master."

"Sir," Firmus interrupted. "You weren't in control. At least, the man I see now wasn't. There was a different person in control when I boarded this vessel. _That_ was Darth Vader; the man sitting on my couch is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, despite all appearances to the contrary."

"You know that he speaks the truth, Anakin. I should know; I've been watching all along. You're free of Palpatine's influence, and events are in motion to return you to a fully functioning body. You will end the rule of the Sith, I can feel it. Then Darth Vader, the being that committed those acts of cruelty, will be no more, as though he never existed. He's already just a shell." Qui-Gon sounded so sure, and Firmus hoped that he could convince the commander.

After a moment, Anakin sighed. "So, besides the letters of apology, what do you suggest, Master, Firmus?"

"I'd break the news a bit at a time, maybe," Piett replied. "Text or voice messages to let them know that their father is out there, alive, and that they have a twin."

"And then perhaps full vid messages after the reconstruction has healed up," Qui-Gon added.

"That way, I'm not dropping it all on them at once, yes. But what about the whole Vader issue?"

"We'll have to think about it, but it _is_ very much like another person took over. It might be a start."

"And, of course, you'll defeat Sidious, since you _are_ the Chosen One of the prophecy."

At this news, Firmus blinked. "I didn't know that the Jedi took stock in prophecy."

"It's a rather ancient one, from a time when the Living Force was well known and prophecy was a bit more common, making it more potent and reliable. Anakin is prophecy in fulfillment."

* * *

Events aboard the _Executor_ remained relatively normal over the next few months, until the beginning of Expansion Week. Firmus and Anakin had been meeting two or three days each week, largely for the sake of Anakin's sanity. After all, Firmus wasn't the one pretending to be a completely different person every day.

Between meeting with Firmus, running the _Executor_ as was expected, and increasing his strength in the Living Force, Anakin wrote and rewrote his initial letters to the twins. He knew that he would use the droids that were their companions to deliver the messages, but the wording was proving tricky for him.

He sent the messages on the first day of Expansion Week.

* * *

Luke couldn't believe that he was spending the first day of Expansion Week moving. He'd been in the cockpit of his X-wing all day, making jump after hyperspace jump. Still, the rest of his Rogues were doing well.

After the Rebellion had evacuated Yavin IV, he and Wedge Antilles had put their heads together, planning the rebuilding and renaming of Red Squadron. Han had been the inspiration for the name, at least: he'd pointed out to the princess (rather loudly) that there was no sense in her judging him as a smuggler, since "every person here is a rogue, going up against the Empire." Naturally, the confrontation had occurred during mealtime in the room that was being used as the cafeteria for the base. Luke and Wedge had looked at each other, grins growing, and then had run off to do some more work on their squadron.

Despite the above-average rate of attrition that the Rogues faced simply because they were the best in the small Rebel fleet, the squadron was the most coordinated and effective group the Alliance had. Of course, there were always one or two pilots that weren't so hot at the stick, but Luke and Wedge, as the senior pilots and the best flyers, made sure that those pilots were _their_ wingmen. It gave the greenies a better chance of survival and improvement. Luke was the squadron's commander, and Wedge, as the executive officer, fought tooth and nail for every bit of equipment they could get for their fighters.

Still, no matter how good the squadron was, changing bases was hard on everyone. Within five minutes of his arrival at the new base, Luke knew that it would be especially hard on Artoo and Threepio. Because of location, the base was comprised of many small levels accessed by narrow and steep stairways, without a single turbolift.

As he made his way towards his assigned quarters with the last load of supplies, which would be dropped off at their destination on the way, he just hoped that their stay here would be brief and the next base would be better suited for the droids. Not to mention the fact that his legs were _killing_ him.

He left the supplies—two crates of emergency rations—in the room where the cooking equipment had been set up, and began the descent to his quarters at last. From the level above, he could hear the chirps and whistles of an astromech, and he was pretty sure that it was Artoo. He hurried down the next flight of stairs to find the little blue-and-white droid rocking from one tread to the other.

"I'm here, Artoo, what's gotten into you?" As soon as he reached level ground, he was herded into his quarters. Somewhat amused by Artoo's antics, he sat on his bunk as the droid plugged into the data terminal next to the room's display screen.

"Personal message for Luke Skywalker," scrolled across the screen as Artoo whistled.

"Go ahead and open it," the young pilot instructed. Who could possibly be writing him? Most of the people he'd known on Tatooine either didn't care too much about him, or they probably thought he had died with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Then the message began to fill the display.

Greetings, Luke.

I hope you can forgive me for not contacting you sooner, but, for reasons beyond my control, I only recently found out that you existed at all. Even then, I only knew for sure because you were given my surname.

When I fought Darth Vader nearly twenty years ago, I nearly died. In fact, Obi-Wan, who had been my teacher, thought I had. Shortly afterwards, I was told that your mother, Padmé, had died before she could give birth. This was such a shock to me that I lapsed into a deep coma, because she was what kept me going through the Clone Wars. Both of us had been eagerly awaiting the birth of our child, and the thought that I had lost all the family I had nearly killed me outright.

But recently, something made me wake, if only a bit, and I was told about the destruction of the _Death Star_. I was so surprised when I heard your name in the report. Padmé never let me use the Force to check on you while she was pregnant, so we didn't know if we were having a boy or a girl. We chose two names, one for each gender. Luke, and Leia. Yes, the Princess is your twin sister. I was incredibly surprised to find out that we'd had twins all along.

From the information I have, my guess is that Padmé lived just long enough for the two of you to be born, and that she was able to tell someone, probably Obi-Wan, what we'd decided on for your names. The evidence suggests that she died shortly thereafter. Bail Organa was one of her few friends in the Senate, and he obviously adopted Leia. I suspect that Obi-Wan contacted him when he thought I was dead. He would have wanted to protect you both from Darth Vader and the Emperor, who would have come after you if they'd known you existed. You were placed with my step-brother, Owen Lars, on the planet where I'd lived for the first nine years of my life.

Your resemblance to me, and Leia's to your mother, is uncanny. Leia even walked in Padmé's footsteps by becoming a Senator at such a young age. The two of you should look her up, using her full name: Padmé Naberrie Amidala. You even share my love of flying and an incredibly strong presence in the Force. I can actually feel you from here as I write, which may be a filial link, though I'm not sure. The Order that trained me forbade relationships like the one I shared with Padmé, so none of the Jedi I knew had children.

As I recover, I am learning new things about the Force, things that the core group of the Jedi Order based on Coruscant had forgotten. It may be hard for you to hear them criticized, but not all Jedi were raised and trained in the Great Temple there. The Council on Coruscant had long forgotten that the Force is not just energy, but an entity with a life and will of its own, and it cannot be made to act against its own wishes. The Jedi who lived in the Corellian system knew this, and, if you can find their records or even someone who was not killed during the Purge, they can teach you a great deal.

I am not alone as I recover, fortunately. One of my friends here is a non-sensitive who helped me to learn about you and Leia. The other is the spirit of the Jedi Master who trained Obi-Wan and originally found me on Tatooine. He was killed before he could teach me, but has since learned how to manifest a visible form. I think he told me that he taught Obi-Wan while I was out, so you may see the old man again.

I am in hiding as I heal. If Darth Sidious, the Emperor, were to learn of my survival, I would be dead as soon as he could get troops to my location. I imagine you know what they can do when they have motivation.

I have included with this message some data for R2-D2 so that he will be able to reach me if you want to. He was a very good friend to me for many years, both during my time as Obi-Wan's padawan learner and when I was a Knight. I am very glad that he came into your possession, and that you are taking care of him.

I would be quite pleased to learn more about you, the young man my son has become, but the decision is up to you.

Trust in the Living Force; it will always be with you.

Your father,

Anakin Skywalker

Jedi Knight

"Frag… My father is alive? And the Princess is my sister?" Luke glanced at Artoo. "Did you verify the source?"

The droid squealed scornfully, and more words appeared on the screen. "I _know_ Anakin's touch in programming, and this _is_ from him. After all, I've had a hunk of it practically welded to my side since his disappearance, and Captain Solo calls it Goldenrod!"

Luke blinked. His father had worked on Threepio? He needed some time to think over this before he responded.

"I _will_ reply, Artoo, but I need to think for a while first. And find out about Mother. Would you mind? You could go bother Wedge to let you work on my fighter for a while." The astromech chirped softly as he disconnected, wheeling out of the small room to leave Luke deep in thought.

* * *

Leia gritted her teeth as she tried to brush the tangles out of her hair. Brushing and braiding her long mane had been a bedtime ritual since she was very small, and it usually calmed her down for sleep. For the last several weeks, though, it did little good; her sleep was haunted by dreams that she could never remember, causing her to toss and turn so much that her hair was worse in the morning than the evening before.

Despite the relatively efficient move today, she was irritated, and had been all day. She didn't know what was causing her bad mood, though she suspected her dreams. She wasn't expecting Threepio when he tottered into her room, just as she got the last knot out.

"Forgive my interruption, Your Highness. The oddest thing has happened. When I plugged in to begin my recharge cycle, I received a message with instructions that I immediately find you and play it. It seems to have been coded to bypass all my security programs. Only my Maker could have done that." The droid seemed rather perplexed by the message.

"Go ahead, Threepio. What is the message?" Leia made herself comfortable, leaning against the wall by her bunk.

"It is a voice message," Threepio stated, then his visual receptors flickered. When he began speaking again, his voice had changed to an eerily familiar tenor.

"Greetings, Princess. I crave pardon for not contacting you before now, but I have lain near death's door for many years and only recently learned of our unique connection.

"Many years ago, at the end of the Clone Wars, I was deceived and nearly killed by Darth Sidious and Darth Vader. Soon after, I was told that my beloved wife and our unborn child had been killed during my fight with Vader. The shock and despair nearly killed me, and I drifted on the edge of existence for years. Then, just months ago, I learned of a young pilot who took out an evil superweapon, and the princess that he had saved from sure death. The pilot hails from my homeworld and bears my name, and the princess… Well, she is the spitting image of my wife, even to her chosen career.

"No living being knew of my marriage to Padmé Amidala, once the Queen of Naboo and later a Senator for her planet. We couldn't allow anyone to know, for I was forbidden to have emotional attachments as a Jedi. As 'The Hero With No Fear,' I had to be an example to Jedi across the galaxy.

"It hurts me to know that I have missed so much of your life and Luke's. In a perfect galaxy, you would have grown up together, with Padmé and I on Naboo, or maybe Coruscant. Darth Sidious and his apprentice have robbed us of eighteen years where we could have been a family. Still, I know of you now, and I long with all my heart to learn all I can about my children.

"I am safe for the time being, hiding with friends, but Darth Sidious, better known as Emperor Palpatine, cannot find out about me. He would have me hunted down like a dangerous krayt dragon and killed so that he could continue his tyrannical rule of the Empire. I am still recovering from my last battle with the Sith, and awaiting massive reconstructive surgery. They would find me easy prey now, but not when I am whole again as I have not been since I was a padawan learner.

"You and Luke have become guiding lights to me, even without having met you. My only request is that I be allowed to know you, and that you allow me to take my place as a father. I wouldn't dream of replacing Bail Organa. He was one of your mother's closest friends, and friendly to me whenever we met. I am so proud that he encouraged your political savvy and the indomitable will you inherited from both Padmé and me. I hope that one day I might have the privilege of standing by him in your heart.

"Whether or not you reply to me is your choice and yours alone, Leia. I built C-3P0 over thirty years ago to help my mother, and I am glad that he now helps you. I have included codes with this message that will allow him to send messages to me, if you wish to do so.

"The Living Force is with you always; trust in it and be true to your heart.

"Your father, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight."

The hairbrush had slipped from her grasp sometime during the message. For a moment, she couldn't even speak.

"Luke… is my twin," she breathed. _I knew I felt a connection to him the moment he stepped into my cell. I always wanted a brother._

"It seems that my memory was wiped at least once in the last few decades. Artoo has bragged to me that his memory has never been wiped." Threepio seemed so confused by the revelations in the message. Leia stood and shrugged on her jacket before turning to the door.

"I'm going to find Artoo and Luke. I'll see you in the morning." _Did Luke get a message too?_

When she reached Luke's level of the base, Artoo greeted her with a low, sad-sounding whistle. He stood by Luke's closed door.

"Is he inside?" she asked, and the faithful little astromech squealed and rocked from one tread to the other. She laid one hand on the blue-and-white dome to calm him, then knocked lightly on the door.

"Who is it?" Luke asked, his voice muffled by the door but sounding sadder than when he had been mourning his friend Biggs.

"Can I come in? It's Leia." The door abruptly slid open to reveal her friend, looking rather like he had maybe been crying. She didn't blame him.

"You got a message from a certain Jedi, didn't you?" he asked. She nodded.

"I wanted to check with you on what he said. I think Artoo might have memories of him and Mother." Luke stepped to one side, wordlessly inviting her in, then waving for the astromech to come as well. The pilot—her brother—was all too happy to show her the message he'd received. She was reassured to see that the facts that were included in both of the messages agreed. However, she was unprepared for Luke's next move.

"Artoo, do you remember Anakin and Padmé?" The droid whistled, and text filled the display.

"Anakin was my best friend. At the end of the Clone Wars, I got separated from him, but Master Obi-Wan found me and gave me to Senator Organa while he went to find Ani. Within a day, he brought Padmé to the Senator's ship, saying that Ani was dead. She held on just long enough to have you younglings and name you, and then she was gone. She died of a broken heart; I think she lost the will to live, since she thought Ani was dead. Threepio and I were entrusted to Senator Organa, along with Mistress Leia, but they had to wipe Threepio's memory because he's so chatty. I miss Anakin." The last sentence was accompanied by a mournful hoot.

"Do you have any recordings of them?" Leia asked. Without another sound, the astromech projected an image.

The setting was beautiful in its simplicity, a flower-draped balcony overlooking a peaceful mountain lake. The two subjects took Leia's breath away. A _very_ tall young man dressed in dark brown Jedi robes, his right arm replaced by a gleaming construct of metal and wires, faced a petite woman dressed all in white. Her clothes gave away the planet; only Naboo produced lace that ornate. She wore a veil of the lace, covering her from her forehead back. The gaze between them was full of passion. As if cued, the man leaned down as the woman lifted her face, and they met in a kiss so fiery that Leia felt a tightening in her chest.

"Their wedding, right after the first battle of the war." Artoo chirped, and the scene changed.

This time, the planet was dry, with sand blowing into every corner. There was a tall man in gray Jedi robes, though without the cloak, and a girl dressed in a simple blue gown, her green cowl shading her face from the fierce light of two suns. The pair entered a building that displayed many discarded, useless parts for various equipment. Inside, a Toydarian approached the Jedi as a small boy hopped down from his perch on the counter. Sound joined the image as the boy stepped up to the girl. "Are you an angel?" The girl turned, allowing a better look at her face, and Leia gasped. This was a much younger Padmé, but who was the boy?

"Father," Luke murmured from beside her. "I looked almost exactly the same when I was young," he continued when she glanced at him. Then words filled the display on the wall again.

"They loved each other from the moment they met. Nothing could make Ani stop thinking her over the years before they saw each other again, and he was always watching the HoloNet for mentions of her. Master Obi-Wan tried for a while, but gave up. When everything fell apart, you were hidden so that no one would know of their relationship."

"Why?" Leia protested. "If they knew from that age, loved each other that young, why would General Kenobi hide it?"

A hollow yet distinct voice replied. "Because the Jedi Code forbid us from having attachments." Both of them jumped, startled, while Artoo whistled happily.

"Ben?"

"General?"

The luminous image of the old Jedi held up his hands in a hushing gesture. "Gently, younglings. I see you've found out about your parents."

"Why would the Jedi forbid such a powerful love, Ben?" Luke asked. Obi-Wan sat on the room's extra bunk before he replied.

"The Jedi Code was meant to keep us attuned to the Light Side of the Force, serving others and protecting the Republic. 'There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force.' I still don't know where I went wrong, what I could have done to keep it from happening as it did."

"If that was the Code, then it's _wrong_," the princess retorted, a frown on her face. "One cannot truly serve without having passion, without emotion. You can't help others unless you have compassion for them, and I _know_ it requires emotion."

"Master Qui-Gon, the Jedi who taught me, would agree with you, but I… I have no idea anymore. I have only been one with the Force for a short time, while he has been so for three decades. It will be a long time before I can understand even a tenth of what he sees. I will speak to him for you; he will surely be more help." Kenobi pointed at the projection, still frozen at the moment in the shop. "The Jedi here is Qui-Gon." Then he sighed and laid a hand on each of their heads. "The Force is strong in you, and always with you, younglings. Be well until I see you again." As suddenly as he had appeared, the ghost was gone.

"No wonder people thought that the Order was stagnating. Understanding and dealing with emotion is part of maturing. It's a wonder they were effective at all." Leia seethed, but slowly began to control her anger.

"A lot of them died during the Clone Wars, I think. They might not have been as effective as they thought they were."

They spoke together for a little while longer, the pauses between comments heavy with thought. They didn't even notice their bodies slip into slumber, lounged across Luke's bunk with Leia's head resting on his shoulder.

Artoo quietly turned down the lights through the data terminal, leaving his photoreceptor as the only light in the room. He stationed himself at the door and entered sentry mode, guarding the children of his beloved Knight.

* * *

To say that Anakin was happy to receive Luke and Leia's replies would have been a gross understatement. In fact, his behavior was so unlike that of Darth Vader that the crew of the _Lady Ex_, as she had come to be called, were walking **very** softly whenever he was near. No one could even begin to guess what he would do next.

No one but Firmus Piett and Qui-Gon Jinn.

On the third week after Expansion, Firmus received the message he'd been waiting to get from the cloners. He broached the subject the next day as soon as he could get Anakin in private.

"Sir, Taun We has contacted me. They can start the process whenever you are ready, and they want to know where it can be done." He watched as Anakin seemed to relax—if the angle of the black-clad shoulders was anything to go by.

"It will have to be aboard the _Lady_. There are facilities attached to my quarters at least equal to the ship's medbay. I can't leave without arousing Sidious' suspicions, but I _can_ decide to meditate for a long period. He expects brooding."

Piett smiled broadly and promised to let the Kaminoans know immediately.

A week later, a nondescript shuttlecraft came aboard, and Lord Vader told the command staff in no uncertain terms that he was not to be bothered until further notice, not even if the Emperor himself tried to reach him. The announcement was delivered in such a manner that Firmus suspected Ozzel and his lackeys had had to change uniforms afterwards.

Ten minutes after the meeting, a brief text message arrived on his datapad.

That doesn't mean you. Even though Q will be there the entire time, you'd better keep me up to date.

Hero

He chuckled to himself. None of the crew would be prepared when the ship's master returned from his self-imposed exile, save himself. At the moment, life was looking pretty good.

* * *

"Knight Skywalker, it is a great honor to see you again after so many years," the pale, long-necked alien said once the door to his personal medbay was secured.

"It pleases me to know that you and yours have weathered the recent galactic storms, Taun We," Anakin replied with a polite bow of courtesy.

"It was unwise of the Emperor to leave you in this condition at all. Depending on your rate of healing, the process may last between sixty and two hundred of your solar cycles. For any but a Jedi, such a massive reconstruction would take years, if it could be survived."

"I understand. I will be in a healing trance during the procedure, and my Jedi Master believes I will heal faster than any human, and many other beings as well." He calmly reclined on the operating table, watching as the cloner activated a personal shield around her head.

"I will elevate the oxygen levels, as the hyperbaric chamber does, until your body can operate without mechanical aid. Once the new lungs are in, I will gradually return to a normal composition so that you are not unduly stressed and your lungs are conditioned to a common level."

"Understood." Moments away from slipping into the deep meditation, Anakin gently touched Taun We's wrist.

"Thank you. I will never forget your kindness."


	3. Chapter 3

Yay, finally after trying to upload this for two days! I'm working on the next chapter as we speak, and I won't be spending quite so much time on the internet the next couple of days because our internet line is going to be worked on, so that will give me more time to write and type. On a side note, have any of you watched SciFi's Dresden Files? The season finale was tonight, and now my brain is trying to run away with plot ideas for that, but I've resorted to sitting on it for now. Must find out if they're doing a second season before mind can run off to play with Dresden and Murph. Or even Bob. Terrence Mann is SOOOO hot... mental smack Sorry, little tangent there. Anyway, I love hearing your thoughts and comments on my writing. I've updated my profile, too. Hugs, y'all, I'm off to write.. and play Sims 2. ;-) Oh, and when I say monkey-lizards, I mean the Kowakian variety, like the one at Jabba's palace that tried to pull out Threepio's eyes.

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 3

Deep in the embrace of the Living Force, Anakin was able to watch what was happening to and around his physical shell as though it were a holovid on fast-forward. He was intrigued by the intricate process that oxygenated his blood during the lung transplant. And then Taun We moved, and he was able to see the mangled mass that had been his original lungs. As the Kaminoan continued the delicate surgery, the Jedi saw _just_ how bad his internal workings had become over the last twenty years. Nearly everything was being replaced with fresh, healthy cloned organs.

_Talk about being a new man,_ Anakin thought to himself. He was a bit surprised by the speed with which the traces of incisions and laser sutures disappeared. Almost before he knew it, the cloner began to work on his oldest injury: his long-lost right arm, still equipped with the original metal prosthetic that he had received just before his wedding.

It would be rather odd to _feel_ the things he touched after so many years. True bionic prostheses had only recently become available, even to the mighty Imperial Navy, at least those which were capable of transmitting sensation.

However, Taun We seemed accustomed to replacing destroyed limbs, for she worked with an easy grace and deft touch. Too, the cloned limbs knit themselves to his flesh even faster than the organs had, if that were possible.

Firmus was in the medbay often, as they had arranged. Though Anakin couldn't physically respond to his friend's presence or words, it comforted him to have someone there who really cared about his health. The man would, from time to time, read aloud, usually quoting from an amusing HoloNet article or a Rebellion report he'd dug up involving one or both of the Jedi's children.

Finally, Taun We began the tedious process of recreating his epidermis. He'd included no specifications referring to possible scarring during the re-skinning phase, but the cloner seemed determined to make his new skin flawless, without any trace of his earliest scars, especially his slave mark. In doing this, she was applying judicious amounts of some liquid to every seam between sections. Anakin eventually realized that it was a variant of bacta, somehow treated to increase its potency exponentially.

Once the last bit of skin had bonded to his body, he was transferred to the bay's huge bacta tank, wearing only a breathing mask and an intravenous feed.

* * *

Taun We gazed upon the human floating in the tank and allowed herself a small smile. Few knew that her folk kept secret copies of medical records from across the galaxy, and no one outside of their species had been entrusted with the secret since the clones were ordered to turn on the Jedi.

Thanks to smuggled copies of records from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and Kamino's sophisticated aging simulation programs, Anakin Skywalker now looked like a forty-three-year-old version of his younger self.

_**Now** he is truly a Master Jedi,_ she thought momentarily. The door hissed open behind her, and she turned to see Captain Piett walk in. Of course, he _was_ the only other being for whom the door would open, for now.

"How is the patient doing today, Madam?" the lean man asked once the door had closed.

"His progress has been extraordinarily swift, Captain. I believe he is ready to emerge from the tank and his trance today." The human gave her a wide, tooth-filled grin at this news.

"Let's decant the old boy, then. I wonder what he thinks of his new equipment?"

The Captain accompanied her to the lift, which raised them to the decking around the top of the bacta tank. As they knelt at the edge, one of her specially-programmed medical droids sent a buzz through the viscous liquid, causing Knight Skywalker to jerk for an instant before he calmed and drove himself to the surface with a few kicks. Once he was within reach, Taun We and Captain Piett caught his arms and pulled, bringing him completely out onto the decking.

As the Kaminoan withdrew the intravenous feed, Piett pulled off the breathing mask. As the Jedi drew in fresh air with great heaves, they reached for nearby towels and began to divest the patient of the little bacta that still clung to him.

* * *

He shivered for a few moments, but began to relax as warm cloth wicked away the remains of his bacta bath and encouraged more circulation into his skin. Anakin inhaled deeply through his nose, then blinked, trying to see despite the bits of goo dripping down his face. He lifted his right hand and flexed it, filled with wonder at the sticky feel of the bacta and being able to feel one knuckle pop.

"Flesh and blood," he muttered to himself. Firmus' smaller hand, holding a towel, closed over the pinkish new skin, and the sticky feeling lessened.

"Yes, sir. Completely flesh and blood. Do you have anything put away that you'd like to wear, or shall I have one of the civilian clothiers make something up for you?"

Anakin thought for a very long moment. He didn't have anything stored away, of course, but he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to wear, now that he could actually use normal clothes. "Just get a few basics for now, and I'll draw something out later."

"Understood. Madam We will probably want to have you confined to quarters for a while yet, anyway, which gives you time."

"I… I need to make a new lightsaber, too. I know I have a parts list in my logs, I'll find it for you when I'm cleared to use a datapad." He shot a wry glance at Taun We, who gave him a smirk in return. "If you can, I'd prefer dark blues for now." Firmus would understand that he meant whatever clothing he was going to receive today.

"Yes, sir. Take me maybe a standard hour." Anakin maintained a calm demeanor until the door closed behind Piett, then began to shake uncontrollably.

Thinking about colors had reminded him of a vague glimpse of Padmé's funeral. He could remember his beloved lying in state as she was carried through the streets of Theed, clothed in a beautiful dark blue dress, her hands clasped over the swollen belly where he'd thought his unborn child rested…

"There is no shame in expressing grief, Sir Knight." Slim, white-skinned arms wrapped him in a warm towel, and held him close to a body that pulsed with life through the Force. "It is needful so one may heal the wounds of the mind." Something in Taun We's words released a pressure valve inside him, and he could no longer hold in the tears.

He wept, and then howled his sorrow at the top of his new lungs, held tight by the Kaminoan. Exhaustion overcame him sometime before Piett returned. He slept then, and knew no more.

* * *

Two weeks passed, and he couldn't bear the confinement any longer. He was ready for "Darth Vader" to return to ship life. According to Firmus, almost every Navy man aboard, especially the command crew, were getting rather nervous as far as the Sith Lord concerned them. Piett was taking the opportunity to quietly feel out the crew, determining who would side with the Emperor and who would remain loyal to the immediate authority of the former Dark Lord when the inevitable parting of ways occurred.

Anakin had spent much of his convalescence working on the armor that had imprisoned him for so long, stripping the life-support systems from the suit. He'd given special attention to both the chestplate and the helmet. There were several lights and readouts on the chestplate that needed to appear functional, and the helmet contained a chipset that modulated his voice to a hair-raising, bone-shaking depth, the voice that set green ensigns to quaking in their boots.

Now he was donning the blasted suit again.

"It's so fragging hot in this…" he mumbled. "Darkness take you, Sidious, I could kill you just for this thing. All that kriff that came out of it, and it's still so farkled _heavy!_"

Of course, Taun We would rather he were flat on his back yet, under her watchful eyes. However, Anakin was on the verge of going stir-crazy, and he _had_ to get out of his quarters. Besides, none of the crew had seen so much as a flicker of black cloak for over two months. He needed to make an appearance before the rumors began to get any more wild.

The disguise—for that was all that was left of the Sith Lord, a name and a reputation tied to the suit—worked flawlessly. Ensigns and junior lieutenants either fled or shakily came to attention when he neared them, and the more senior officers, especially Admiral Ozzel's group of flunkies, sweated durasteel ingots. Even General Veers, commander of the stormtroopers on the vessel, had been nervous on encountering the black-clad figure, and he had long been on Vader's good side.

* * *

Another two weeks passed before Firmus cornered him in his office.

"Sir, you need to take a personal day," the Axxilan insisted. "You're going to run yourself through the decks if you keep this up." In truth, Anakin was about ready to burn the stripped life-support suit, disguises be farkled. Between the weight and the heat that built up inside over the course of a duty shift, he virtually collapsed onto his bed after he took the armor off each day. It seemed to completely sap his energy.

Instead of answering Piett, he pulled off the helmet and began to wriggle out of the suit.

"The crew's loyalties have been rather easy to define so far," Firmus stated a moment later. "General Veers spoke with his colonels, and told me that every single man in the ground troops would stick by you, even if they had to march naked through vacuum. The Navy men are another crate of monkey-lizards entirely. There's barely enough to run three duty shifts who would choose you over Sidious. Most of them are ensigns or very junior lieutenants." The captain paused, considering something. "Could the ground troops be trained up to a level where they could assist in running the _Lady Ex_ and relieve the boys who will stay once in a while?"

"Of course they can. They're still mostly clones. They were the whole army _and_ navy during the Clone Wars, you know. They'll only need a bit of a refresher and instruction on our _Lady_'s quirks." His torso finally free of the suit, Anakin rolled his neck, feeling something pop and an ache ease. "The only reason that you Navy boys don't have any of them among you is because they all look alike. Sidious wants to be able to see faces rather than helmets when he's ordering people around, and you can't exactly have all those identical faces running around in plain sight."

Firmus chuckled. "That's true. As for the civilians and menial workers, they don't give a womp rat's tail for who we're fighting for, as long as they're not kicked off or put out of work."

"That's because they're survivors." Anakin moved to his bed and sprawled across it to stare at the ceiling. "We'll wait for Sidious to call his pet to heel and make a personal report. Then we can stuff the uncooperative ones in the brig and surprise the old worm."

Firmus was quiet for a bit, and the Jedi could feel him relax. It felt rather good to drop the "I'm an evil Sith" act for a while.

"Have you sent them a vid yet?" Firmus asked, making another of his typical leaps to another subject. Anakin groaned in response.

"I haven't even opened what came while I was in surgery. I was too busy with the fragging _thing_." He just didn't have the energy left when he came off a duty shift, either, thanks to the suit. He heard the Axxilan move around his quarters, but he still jumped when a datapad was almost shoved in his face.

"I hope I don't see anything black lurking in the corridors for at least twenty-four hours." The sandy-haired man strode away, and the hissing of the door moments later told Anakin that he'd left.

_Well, spast. He's almost as bad as Artoo was during the war. "Don't forget about this, take time for that, the act is slipping so fix it **now**…"_ The little droid had had a talent for nagging. Of course, the astromech was smart and savvy, too. He'd been a loyal friend for Anakin to count on.

When he'd read the first pair of replies from his younglings, he'd been surprised to find out that Artoo wasn't just looking out for Luke: apparently he'd been with the Organas since the twins were born, only separated when Leia had sent him off with the plans for the battle station. Thank the Force that the droid had been purchased from the Jawas by Lars. Even better, Artoo's memory had never been tampered with, so he still had many hours of recordings that the twins could watch to learn about who their parents had been.

Anakin relaxed for the next few hours, reading and rereading the missives that had been waiting for him. He changed into a dark blue set of robes, patterned after the ones he'd favored as a Knight during the Clone Wars. After all, no one but Firmus would dare to enter his quarters without notifying him well in advance. Taun We had returned to Kamino a week earlier.

After eating, Anakin sat down at the console to record his message. He ran a hand through the _very _short hair that had grown since the operation, oddly reminded of a padawan's traditional cut. He was eager for it to get longer, the way he'd worn it when he was married, after being knighted.

Taking a deep breath, he turned on the recorder and began to speak.

"Hello, my younglings. As you can probably tell, I made it through the surgery without a problem. In fact, the medical team was impressed with the speed of my healing aided by a Jedi healing trance. My hair is much too short right now, but only time can remedy that minor problem. I'm just glad to have all my senses functioning again, as good as new.

"I'm in the first stages of what Obi-Wan and Padmé would have called one of my 'crazy schemes,' in the hopes that I can ambush Darth Sidious at some point in the near future. I'm not worried about Vader anymore; he's all but destroyed. Even if Sidious realizes that I'm back and coming for him, and manages to evade my trap, I'll have an Imperial vessel to bring to the Alliance when I join you.

"My friend Firmus has nagged me into taking it easy for a day or so…"

* * *

The twins glanced at each other as the holovid ended.

"_Why_ am I getting a bad feeling about this 'crazy scheme' of his?" Leia asked her brother. There was a note of something akin to fear in her voice.

"Probably because it's likely to go horribly awry, though he'll make it away practically unscathed, if I'm reading what I sense correctly," Luke replied, trying to stretch out further in the Force for more information.

"Just what we need. Someone else who thinks like Solo." He couldn't help but smile knowingly at his sister, though she was turned away and couldn't see him. She hadn't a clue about the pool on when she and Han would finally admit that they were interested in each other. For the sake of the Rebels with money on the line, he hoped neither of them found out. Ever. He'd rather not open _that_ crate of monkey-lizards.

"I'm surprised at how quickly he's gotten back on his feet," he said, changing the subject. "Two weeks out of the bacta for Father looks like a month and a half out for most anyone else." Privately, the young pilot was awestruck by the physical similarities between Anakin and himself. On top of that, the Jedi Knight looked way too good to be forty-three. Not that Luke would ever admit it.

"You know, I can see why Mother fell for him when they met. I feel like I should be sent to Kessel just for looking at him, and he's our _father_." He had to stifle his laugh as he watched his blushing sister.

"You just feel guilty that you're looking at him and feeling that way, rather than looking at—" He ducked and threw up his arm just in time to catch Leia's swat on his bicep rather than the back of his head.

"Shut up, you! Or I'll get Rieekan to put your hotshot squadron on kitchen duty!" Despite the laugh in her tone, Luke knew the princess was at least half-serious.

"I surrender!" He held up his hands, only to have his sides assaulted by nimble fingers. Their 'meeting' then devolved into an all-out tickle war.

* * *

The slim girl kept her eyes moving as she slipped through the dark corridors of the Palace. She knew now that she was more a pawn than a Hand, and she was sick to death of being used. It was most definitely time to skip the planet.

She'd collected her meager belongings and packed then into the black knapsack she was now wearing. Every hard object was wrapped with clothing to prevent noise. She wore very little; her black body glove, soft leather boots that made no sound as she moved, gloves, utility belt, and a long black scarf. With the filmy scarf, she had covered her distinctive fiery hair and the paleness of her face without impeding her own sight.

She still wasn't quite ready to leave, though. She knew how to get to the Emperor's hidden 'playground,' and she wanted to take as much from those long-sealed rooms as she could carry.

Even if the Jedi had been as evil as he claimed—and that was something she doubted was true at all—they still didn't deserve the treatment that had been doled out to the artifacts they'd left behind.

Besides, they'd had some tools and weapons that she would find very useful.

The Palace was virtually deserted tonight, which was why she was leaving _now_. There was a new opera premiering several klicks away, and everyone who was anyone knew that the Emperor loved opera. They would all be there, trying to curry favor. It worked in her favor, because it didn't take her very long to get to the Jedi museum, and no one saw her.

Safely away from areas where anyone could walk by and among the mutilated statues and mannequins of the deserted wing, she set down her knapsack and pulled out an elaborate ballgown. It only took a few minutes for her to gather every lightsaber and small weapon in the museum, and she began to carefully roll them up in the fabric. The fat, solid roll went back into the bag, and she took out a large pouch for the remaining portable mementoes. Most of these were holo displays, though there were a few JedCreds from Corellian Jedi Masters.

Though she regretted it greatly, there was nothing she could do about the defaced figures standing around the rooms. Most of them were larger than she was; even the smallest was too heavy for her to carry. At least she was saving what she could.

When she finished clearing the museum, she fit everything tightly into the knapsack again, adjusting straps on the outside of the bag to increase its capacity. It was almost triple the size it had been when she entered, but it was not nearly as heavy as it might have looked.

She hefted the knapsack and secured the buckle across her chest, then checked her chrono. One hour gone, out of the four hours she'd allowed herself to escape. It was time to go.

She'd been scrutinizing the Palace schematics for years, first as a hobby, then with this plan in mind. It was paying off now. She used small, out-of-sight corridors to descend through the massive structure. No tracks marred the layer of dust on the floors. She used one of the first Force tricks she'd been taught to stir the air behind her and wipe away her own footprints.

She eventually emerged from a hidden door in the lower reaches of the planet-city. While she was still concealed by the shadows around the door, she began to modify her garb, adding bits of light and colorful fabric in strategic locations so that she could blend into the festive crowd as she headed for Invisec. Someone was always celebrating something down here, and the non-humans in the Alien Protection Zone would look the other way if a human sought transportation off-world. There was bound to be someone headed in the direction of Kalarba and that end of the Corellian Run, and she had cold, hard credits to offer in exchange for a bunk onboard.

Once she got beyond the Inner Rim or, better yet, the Expansion Region, she would have no problem locating a Rebel cell or, Force willing, the Alliance's command group. She knew there was a miniscule chance that Leia Organa or Mon Mothma might recognize her, but it was negligible; her normal appearance was quite a departure from the young courtier the Senators might have seen at Court. She had always hated wearing all that makeup and the other symbols of her fictitious status in the Imperial Court.

The most risky segment of her escape plan was over. She methodically reinforced her mental shield to prevent the Emperor or Vader from tracking her—not that Darth Vader knew she existed, since the Emperor preferred to keep his Hands as hidden weapons—and stepped into the mass of sentience that filled the lower levels of Coruscant.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for your patience, guys. The last week has been really stressful for everyone in my hometown. We're about a hundred miles away from the VT campus in Blacksburg, and nearly a third of the college students from the area are Tech students. I have never been so glad to see such a strong "Orange and Maroon Effect" as I have this past week. My best friend, a guy I've known since we were toddlers, is a grad student in engineering up there. He teaches a class that met in Norris Hall, but it only meets on Fridays, which is a relief to me. One of his friends was in the building teaching a class when the shooting began; he got the room door blocked and shepherded his students out the second-story window to safety. Out of all those kids, he was the only one hurt, as he missed the bush they'd been landing in and shattered his leg. The last I heard, he was still in the hospital, but he wasn't shot, which is the most important thing. Mme Couture-Nowak, the French professor who was killed, was one of my professors during my first semester there. I've learned that she and Mr. Bishop, the elderly German professor who had survived the Holocaust, were apparently in the same room, and fifteen of their students were also gunned down.

Events like these are tragic, especially when they could have been prevented if someone had just reached out and gotten some help. It is sad that the pressures of Korean-American culture caused Seung-Hui Cho to internalize his problems rather than seeking mental help. I hope that his death starts a change in that mental illnesses will not be so scandalous in the future, but I know that it's unlikely. Many of my good friends, people that I met when I was at Tech, are of Oriental descent, and I hope that no one takes it upon themselves to punish Asian-Americans for the actions of an individual. Bigotry is sickening whenever it happens, no matter what caused it.

I would greatly appreciate everyone's prayers and good wishes for anyone affected by the events of April 16. If you can find Virginia Tech gear in your area, please support the school by purchasing some. A large percentage of those sales goes directly to the school, and it pays for maintaining the facilities and staffing them. I plan on trying to send the school as much as I can afford, earmarked for the mental health facility on campus.

Again, thanks for your patience and for putting up with my little soapboxing. Your chapter has arrived!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 4

Leia allowed her thoughts to wander as she prepared for bed. Almost half a year had passed since she had found out that Anakin Skywalker was alive, and that he was her father. At first, she had replied with caution, as though she was feeling her way through a dim swamp.

Thanks to Luke and General Kenobi, she had begun to trust her instincts and allowed the Jedi Knight into her life, if only a little. At times, she could swear that someone was watching her or looking over her shoulder, but it had always occurred when no one was around. She'd finally gone to her twin about the sensation, and he had smiled.

"I think he does a lot of what Ben calls 'projecting'," Luke had explained. "It's an advanced meditation technique, allowing the Jedi to send his or her consciousness away from their body. He won't tell me much more than that, but he did say that Father has always had some ability to, I don't know, contact or keep an eye out for his loved ones. He didn't get any training in it, because the Coruscant Order didn't even test for that sort of talent. It turned up as rather unpleasant nightmares when it manifested, I gather."

Leia had stared. "So when I feel that unseen presence, it's probably Anakin?"

Master Jinn had chosen that moment to materialize in the room. Though they'd been receiving some elementary training from the ghost, Leia still jumped every time he made a sudden entrance.

"He is very uncomfortable with the situation he has to endure on a daily basis, and meditation gives him an outlet. You look very much like your mother, Princess. He misses her greatly, and seeing you reminds him that there's still something of her in the galaxy." The Master smiled gently. "I doubt that you'd be an exact genetic match, but you probably have a very similar genetic signature." As Leia blinked, he went on to tell both of them his perspective of Anakin's life before the Clone Wars, all the way up to the last few months of the wars.

Hearing about the manner of their grandmother's death shook Leia, especially Luke's observation that the Tusken Raiders had avoided the Lars homestead ever since. Even worse was the fact that, while knowing that he was going to be a father had overjoyed Anakin, he had immediately begun to have nightmares of Padmé dying in childbirth.

She had disliked the Emperor before she learned he was a Sith; knowing that he had used her father made the feeling more acute. She understood the harm that Shmi's death had inflicted on Anakin, and hiding his love for and relationship with Padmé had obviously made the problem worse. She had seen first-hand how similar conditions had resulted; helping in a psychiatric hospital on Alderaan had been part of her preparation for her political career. Leia was no stranger to schizophrenia. She was beginning to suspect that Master Jinn was trying to ease them into something dreadful.

"He was no longer one person when we were born, was he?" she asked. Luke had looked confused, but Master Jinn had sadly nodded his head.

"His battle with Vader was mental, and he lost badly. He might as well have been in a coma, for Vader was nothing like the young man I cared for so much. Padmé sensed the change somehow. She and Obi-Wan were both present when it occurred, and they thought that the Anakin they loved was dead. She clung to life just long enough for your birth and to name you, then she just… let go. There was no physical cause of death; she simply couldn't bear to live without Anakin." Leia had to blink back tears.

"Learning of me must have given Father the strength to regain control, then," Luke commented.

"Yes, and it weakened Vader at the same time. Palpatine had informed him that he had inadvertently killed his wife _and_ the baby. It was enough that Anakin could clear the vast majority of the rot from his system, so to speak. I knew that he had returned when he asked himself how things would have turned out had I not been killed. He still blames himself for all of Vader's evil deeds, though, and the guilt is especially dangerous to him. The events aboard the Death Star haunt him the most." Leia turned to her brother and buried her face in his shoulder as the Jedi Master spoke. "That is why he hasn't told you everything. Anakin is deathly afraid that you would reject him for what Vader did." She could feel the ghost's eyes on her as Luke tried to soothe her.

"He…" The words stuck on the lump of sadness in her throat. "He's been so _hurt_ by everything in his life…" She wasn't sure how to word what she felt, and instead just concentrated on the emotion: a bit of sorrow, and overwhelming love and respect for her father, stronger than anything she had ever felt for Bail.

Warmth touched her shoulder, and she turned to find Master Jinn crouched next to her, one hand resting weightlessly on her shoulder. "Tell him, youngling. It may seem odd, but he is very insecure at the moment, not sure that he deserves the two of you. That fear is all that holds him back from his true potential."

"He was 'The Hero With No Fear' because of Mother, because he loved and was loved in return," Luke mused.

"He was. Now he hopes to confront Darth Sidious again, directly, even without your love if he has to. I don't know if he can survive, without it."

Leia sat up, drying her eyes with a bit of her sleeve. "I want to talk to him. Now, before anything else can hurt him." Smiling, her brother put an arm over her shoulder, and they went to find a holocomm where they wouldn't have an audience.

* * *

"They've called for you," Piett muttered as he caught up to Anakin. The Jedi was wearing the Vader disguise again, making a surprise inspection in Maintenance. His reaction was immediate: he came to an abrupt halt, his bodyguards nearly running into him.

"They have? Show me." The words were clipped, but Firmus knew enough to guess that the blue eyes behind the mask were wide. They quickly outpaced the two clones, and, once inside Anakin's quarters, the helmet and mask hit the decking with a _thud_.

"They're on the holocomm in the other room, waiting for you, sir." He was just glad that he'd taken off his cap and jacket while working on the duty lists they would need any day now, when the mutiny needed to be enacted.

"Sithspit! I can't get this blasted thing _off_!" The suit's fastenings had gotten twisted just where Anakin couldn't reach, and it took a moment before Firmus could get them apart. It was actually sort of amusing to see the normally calm Jedi racing to change into less distinctive clothing.

As Anakin settled before the display so that the twins could see him, Piett leaned against the bulkhead, just out of range of the transmitter. Neither of the Rebels had ever initiated a real-time call before; something was up. He wanted to be immediately available if his friend needed him.

"Father," the young man began. "We don't blame you for what Vader did." Anakin looked as though he'd been punched in the gut, and Firmus was just as surprised. _Where the hell did they find out? How?_

"I love you, Daddy," the princess said next. "What I feel for Bail is a dim dwarf star against your nova." Tears were beginning to form in Anakin's eyes. "We wanted you to know. You're not Vader, even if he did use your body." There was a pause, none of them saying a word, then young Luke put one arm around his sister, and they both closed their eyes, seeming to concentrate very hard on something. Anakin slipped to the floor, a blissful expression spreading across his face even as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"We wish we could be with you, Father, but we understand. You have to keep the Emperor thinking that you're still his loyal servant until you're close enough to deal with him. We'll be waiting for you to join the fleet when you can, whether you succeed or not. We'll be here, Father." Firmus could barely believe his ears. The twins knew the whole truth, and they'd forgiven Anakin of everything?

"Thank you," Anakin said softly. "Thank you so much." Smiling, the twins blinked out as the connection closed, but the Jedi Knight remained where he was.

"Sir?"

"They know, Firmus. They figured out my plan, and they still care for me." Anakin swallowed hard as he turned toward the captain. "They projected their feelings so that I could sense them, and it's incredible."

"I gathered as much, sir." Piett helped him up and gently steered the taller man in the direction of the bed. "Rest, please, sir. You can't go back out like this, and you're about due a break from ship life, anyway. I'll fend off the hawk-bats." It felt odd to be making decisions for Anakin instead of carrying out orders, but Firmus knew that any further attempts to 'be' Darth Vader today would be a complete disaster.

He'd picked out who was reporting to the Emperor—he thought, at least. There were likely a few that he'd missed, but he was watching the important ones. Ozzel was one, and _he_ would have no problem seeing that the crew was being fooled if Anakin went back to 'business' as usual. The gig would be up in a heartbeat then, Firmus was sure.

Hopefully they would be called to Coruscant soon. He wasn't sure how much more acting Anakin could handle.

* * *

Orders reached the _Lady Ex_ less than a week later, demanding that they reach Coruscant as soon as they could without damaging the ship, and that Darth Vader was to immediately report to the Palace.

Firmus was doubly glad, because Anakin had become a ball of energy after the call from the younglings. Materials for a new lightsaber had been laid out in a corner of the Knight's quarters for months without being touched, only to be pulled together and transformed—he had no idea how it was done, and didn't really care to know—into an elegant cylinder in under two days. Piett had a feeling that it was supposed to take longer. _Much_ longer.

The day after the orders arrived, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared with another Force spirit, a man who looked at least another fifteen to twenty years older. Anakin eyed the ghost for a long moment.

"Obi-Wan? Spast but you got _old_!" The white-haired Jedi had raised his hands to rub at his temples, and darker color spread through the hair as the age lines on his face disappeared.

"I thought _you_ were bad. Your son gave me more gray hairs than you ever could have."

"Not to mention that he spent almost twice as long watching out for the boy," Qui-Gon added, sounding almost amused. Kenobi—because that was who he had to be—grimaced. Stranger yet, Anakin _chuckled_ at his former teacher. The three of them assumed seated positions on the floor, Firmus watching with interest from the door to the next room.

"I've been teaching you about the ancient traditions," Qui-Gon began. Firmus brightened. He enjoyed sitting in on _these_ lessons. "You know that the Order didn't always just take the very young to be trained. There were some Masters who did nothing but wander the galaxy, helping where they were needed and searching for those who could touch the Force, who could be trained as Jedi. Sometimes, these new padawan learners were full adults when they were found, and they were still trained, just as the younglings were.

"When one of the Jedi Knights of that era had reached a certain point in his life, he would be approached by the Master who trained him and the one who discovered him. In calm times, the Masters would bring the Knight before the Council. It was much more common for there to be unrest during that period, and in such a case, it would just be the three of them gathered together." The older spirit laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder, a proud smile on his face. "It was then, either before the Council or in the presence of the Force, that the student would be told why he was there."

Kenobi mirrored the other Jedi's action, clapping a friendly hand on Anakin's other shoulder. "It is a pleasure and an honor to inform you, my friend, that you may now claim the rank of Jedi Master."

Time _froze_ for a moment as the words sank in. Firmus blinked. The two ghosts beamed. And Anakin… passed out. Both of the spirits shifted their hands to grip him, and Firmus rushed over to prevent Anakin's head from cracking against the decking. Never before had he been more grateful that Qui-Gon, at least, was able to affect objects as though he were still alive. Otherwise, he wouldn't have reached them in time.

"I've never seen a new Master react to the news quite like _that_," Kenobi observed wryly.

"He likely thought he'd never be worthy of the title," the other Jedi countered. "The Council's denial hurt him deeply. Still, he wasn't ready then." He helped Firmus maneuver Anakin into a more comfortable position as he spoke.

"Well, I can understand that," the captain replied. "I knew some lieutenants when I was stationed at home who had five, ten years more service than I did, and they had all but given up on any further promotion." Looking thoughtful, Kenobi nodded.

In just a few minutes, Anakin began to rouse, blinking dazedly. As he sat up, he pressed against his forehead as though fighting an impending headache.

"Did you two just tell me that I'd made Master?" he asked, a suspicious look in the blue eyes. Kenobi nodded slightly, and Anakin glared just a bit more at his old teacher. "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not. I might have done that to you twenty-five years ago, but we were both _much_ younger then. I wouldn't do that to you now." The banter intrigued Firmus, but he let it slide… for now. "You're on an incredibly important mission now, one you've set yourself, and you'd better come out of it alive and whole, because I will _not_ be responsible for anything those younglings of yours do if you're hurt."

Anakin began to chuckle quietly, a smirk threatening to turn it into full laughter. "_Now_ you sound like the old man I knew." The ghost cuffed him on the arm, though he, too, was smiling.

"I wasn't old until your son ran me ragged, racing through Beggar's Canyon in his T-16. I nearly had a heart attack when he threaded the Needle, and I was only _watching_."

"You're not talking about…"

"Yes, I mean _that_ Beggar's Canyon. I don't think there's anywhere else with that name."

"Did he…"

"Lost nearly half a meter of each fin." Firmus wasn't even trying to follow the conversation anymore, and Qui-Gon had leaned back, his hands behind him, watching the pair and grinning.

"He is _so_…"

"You can't ground him, his squadron practically depends on him."

"Squadron?"

Shaking his head, Firmus left the Jedi to themselves. He had a duty roster to finalize.

At least Anakin would be relaxing.

* * *

He listened to the quiet rhythm of marching stormtroopers as he stared into the whirling void of hyperspace over the profile of his ship. Some of the bridge officers thought quite loudly; they wanted to know why Ops was being turned into a parade ground.

The sounds of movement stilled, then the company's captain issued an order unheard by all but the troops. Every man pulled his standard-issue blaster rifle, the motion accompanied by an ominous "cli-clack" that resounded through the room. The Navy men froze, some staring incredulously at the blasters in their faces, a few watching him closely.

To the crew, it had seemed that Lord Vader hadn't even noticed the entrance of the stormtroopers, just standing in his customary place and gazing out over the vast bulk of the _Lady Ex_ into the hyperspace visible beyond her. In truth, Anakin was smirking to himself. He whirled with a dramatic flare of the long black cloak and addressed the stormie captain.

"Take them, all but those on the list." Panic surged from the Navy officers, and he threw up a strong shield around himself. He couldn't afford the possibility that their emotion would affect him. Within moments, the efficient soldiers had escorted all but a handful of the Navy men from the bridge, and he relaxed as the door hissed to a close behind them.

"None of you are in any danger from me," he said then, hoping to reassure the small group. "There has been a… a change in command, you could say. You may have heard the rumor that Darth Vader was once a Jedi." Two lieutenants nodded, while the other half dozen just looked blank.

"Palpatine's entire rule is based on outright lies. With one of them, he ensured the loyalty of his apprentice… or so he thought. He did not foresee the truth being revealed, nor the effect it would have." He reached up and touched the catch for the helmet, and it released with a tiny hiss. As soon as his head was clear, he hurled the blasted thing across the bridge, where it hit a bulkhead with a dull crack and split right across the dome.

"Darth Vader no longer exists. I am Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, and I would be immensely pleased if you would do me the favor of helping me bring justice to Palpatine, who is also the Sith Lord Darth Sidious." One ensign, standing in the middle of the group, fainted, but his fellows were able to catch him quickly.

"Sir?" It was one of the lieutenants who had heard the rumor, and Anakin nodded. "Why… why the suit?"

"Until a few months ago, I couldn't have survived without it; I nearly died when Palpatine _created_ Vader. During my recent long seclusion, a friend who had known me before, during the Clone Wars, used cloning technology to replace everything that had been damaged. I stripped the suit to maintain the falsehood that Vader still served the emperor. Whatever happens when we reach Coruscant, I will no longer need it, because we will then be joining the Rebel Alliance, and my children." Another ensign passed out, and he had to bite back a chuckle.

The blast door to the main corridor opened with a hiss, and the crewmen twisted to see who it was, fear beginning to seep from one or two. It was only Firmus.

"Ah, there you are, sir. Finished scaring them yet?" Now he couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not that I _mean_ to or anything. They're just reacting to the suit, I'm sure. Are we secure?"

"All dissidents have been confined to the brig. It's a little crowded down there at the moment."

"Good! Then I'm getting _out_ of this piece of poodoo." He strode toward the door, using a tendril of the Force to call the damaged helmet to his hand. "Well done… _Admiral_." He winked at his surprised friend, then took off down the corridor with a devilish grin on his face.

* * *

"Gee, _thanks_, Anakin. Nice of you to spring that on me," Firmus muttered, knowing that the Jedi was well out of range already. He turned to the young men with a wry smile and nearly laughed at their expressions.

"It may not seem like it at the moment, boys, but he _is_ human. There are times when he has a remarkable resemblance to any other laserbrain."

"Sir, did he say 'children'? I thought the Jedi were… well, that they didn't _have_ younglings of their own." Firmus sighed.

"True, the part of the Order that most are familiar with didn't allow… procreation unless the Jedi in question was a member of a dying race. Anakin, on the other hand, has apparently always been a bit, um, _defiant_ when the rules don't make sense to him." The ensign who had asked made a slight, almost squeaky sound. "He _was_ The Hero With No Fear, though, and it's reemerging. I idolized him back then, I'll admit. I've been told in confidence the reason behind some of his exploits in the Clone Wars, and he's got similar motivation now."

Two of the younger ensigns were muttering furiously to each other, and Firmus eyed them long enough that the others turned to look. "Care to share?"

"Is… isn't 'Skywalker' the name of the kid that got the Death Star?"

"Yes. Reckless bravery seems to run in the family." He folded his arms across his chest in a subtle signal that question time was over. "There's maybe another twenty boys who chose to follow our immediate commander rather than a distant politician, but we won't have to worry about skeleton crews in a couple days. You know how the _Lady_'s run. You'll each get a group of stormies following you around. Explain things to them, they learn fast. We'll have a full duty roster within a couple of days that way, which will take work off your plates. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the crewmen chorused. Firmus turned to leave, but was halted by the timid voice of the youngest ensign.

"Sir? H-how do we know the R-rebels won't… shoot us on sight, or something?" He could feel one _hell_ of a headache coming.

"You all know where Luke Skywalker stands with them. All I am at liberty to say is that his twin sister is even higher in their command system." _Even if I don't understand how that system works, I know __**that**__ much. She helped __**form**__ the Rebellion._ "Your new uniforms will be delivered as soon as the civilians have finished them. Dismissed to quarters." With an automatic salute, the crewmen fled the bridge.

Massaging his temples, Firmus headed for his own rooms. The _Lady_ could handle herself for the hour or so left before the next shift came on duty.

* * *

"_Why_ won't you people _believe_ me?!" The desperate question piqued Luke's interest, drawing him around a corner to see what was going on. He was surprised to see a Yuzzem and a Togorian forcibly escorting a young human woman, led by a Falleen woman. For some reason, the girl seemed to _call_ to him, not aloud, but in some deeper way.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing with her? I thought we didn't interrogate people, especially not when they came to us." _I know this feeling,_ he thought with a touch of dread. _Something bad is going to happen, and the Force is telling me to do something about it, **now**_.

"Suspected Imperial spy, Commander Skywalker. I suggest you don't interfere." The Falleen's words were crisp with the anger that practically radiated from her through the Force.

"You're Skywalker?" the prisoner (She_ doesn't **feel **like she's hiding things… except maybe a sensitivity to the Force._) asked. "Please, listen to me! Palpatine wants you, wants to either kill or turn you!" He raised an eyebrow.

"So it took this long for someone to work up the courage to mention my name, huh?" The only thing that surprised him was that it hadn't taken longer. The Emperor was notorious for harsh punishments of those who brought him news that he didn't like.

"I don't know why he reacted the way he did—it was almost like luck, the way no one actually got hurt for a change. But he was _mad_. Furious. I knew I had to get away, and I did it as fast as I could, but it took a while for me to find you people. I have no idea what his plans are now!"

_Spast! Father might be in serious danger, if Sidious put two and two together._ He turned to the other woman, pointing a warning finger. "If so much as a hair on her head is harmed, Princess Leia _will_ be on your case." Her greenish skin paled as she nodded. "I'll be back to see you in a bit. I have to get hold of someone. The warning is much appreciated."

The human's striking green eyes blinked, and Luke recognized the threat of tears. "I'm pretty sure you're in time to avert a disaster. As soon as I've gotten my message off, I'll be back. I promise." Once she nodded, he turned and took off for the nearest comm station.

It took him only a few moments to record and send a message to the beacon that would reroute the transmission to the _Executor_. It took much longer to find where Security had put the girl in his absence. Luke finally found her in what had to be the smallest room on the base, barely large enough to turn around in.

"I can feel that you're Force-sensitive," he said quietly, causing her eyes to go very wide. "I am, too, as is my sister, but we don't know of any others on this base. I… I think maybe we need to talk, somewhere less public." To his surprise, she nodded.

"Yes, I'm getting the same feeling. I'm Mara, by the way." He inclined his head politely and stepped out of the doorway so she could exit. When the guard on duty made to protest his removal of the 'prisoner,' Luke just narrowed his eyes at the man. Wisely, he just swallowed and kept to himself as they passed.

"Huh. The rumors said you were influential, but this is insane."

"They know that I'm… _close_ to the princess, they just don't know how, so they try to stay out of my way, mostly. Besides, I've trained the most effective fighters we have. _Nobody_ in the Alliance wants to lose the Rogues, and they know the squadron would go wherever I went."

"I'm impressed," Mara replied. "I'm not such a hot hand in a snubfighter, but I understand enough to know that what you do is difficult. I'm more of a freighter pilot, myself."

Luke shrugged. "Piloting snubfighters runs in my family, apparently. My father won the Boonta Eve Classic when he was nine." She gaped.

"_The_ Boonta Eve Classic? As in the podrace? At _nine_?!"

"I know. I didn't believe it when I first found out, either. My aunt and uncle always told me he'd piloted a spice freighter, but after they died, I found out that he was a Jedi, among other things. Only human to ever win a podrace, and that's less impressive than some of the other things he's done." He wasn't going to tell her about the whole split-personality/falling to the Dark Side issue yet. That level of trust might take a little while, since he didn't know her from, say, the current Queen of Naboo. If there even _was _a monarchy there any more.

"Hey, twin," he said as he raised his comlink. "Can you get away for a bit?"

"Give me just a moment. I'll meet you there," Leia's voice came back. They'd established their pseudo-code months ago, and Luke knew she'd get to his quarters as soon as she could. He certainly didn't miss the way Mara stiffened when she heard Leia, though. It was kind of odd. _Does she know Leia from somewhere else?_

However, Mara remained silent the rest of their brief walk. When he offered her a drink, she simply shook her head. Luke could feel the turmoil in her building a little bit at a time, but he couldn't figure out why, and he didn't know how to get her to relax.

When the door slid open moments later to admit his sister, the other girl jerked as though she'd been slapped, or had a nasty suspicion confirmed. The emotions pouring from her through the Force only confirmed his impression. Leia, for her part, had gone completely still when she saw Mara.

"Do I know you?" the brunette asked bluntly. Mara's eyes became downcast, her face pinched as though waiting for rejection, but she nodded.

"You probably can't identify me without all the nasty, heavy makeup and fancy dresses, though." Leia's eyes grew hard as durasteel.

"Jade. How dare you…"

"He was _using_ me! I only found out a month ago!"

"That's what he _does_, use people! He's a _Sith_!"

"Stop it!" Luke's shout startled both women into silence. "Lay _off_, Leia. Think about Father. Wasn't he in almost the same position? If Mara wants to contribute to getting rid of Sidious, then great! We could use the help! Thanks to her, Father is going to be warned that my name has reached the Emperor."

"_What_? That bastard _knows_?!" Great, now she was yelling at him.

"Just about me, sis. Right?" He directed the question at Mara, who looked startled.

"No one else was mentioned when he went nova, at least."

"See? He doesn't know even a _third_ of it. He might suspect that something's going on with Father, but he can't possibly know about you." Luke finally saw his twin's rigid stance collapse, and he pulled her into a hug.

"Daddy?" she asked quietly, almost whispering.

"I sent him a message as soon as she'd told me. You know that he can take care of himself, and forewarned is forearmed."

"'M sorry for yelling, Jade. Thank you for the warning," Leia mumbled, just loud enough for the other woman to hear.

"Uh… Some coordinates would help, here. I have _no idea_ what you're talking about." Mara had folded her arms across her chest, and her green eyes were flashing dangerously.

"Leia and I were separated at birth so that we could be hidden from the Emperor. He likely felt us being born, but, as far as we can tell, he didn't know anything besides the fact that our mother lived long enough to have us. It's highly unlikely that he knew we were twins, because our parents hadn't found out." If anything, the redhead looked more confused, and Leia picked up the story.

"Daddy—not my foster father, Bail, but our real father—was one of the most famous Jedi Knights involved in the Clone Wars." At this, recognition dawned in Mara's eyes.

"Anakin Skywalker? I thought he was dead."

"As did everyone else," Luke replied, "even Mother and the Jedi Master who trained Father. They thought that Darth Vader, a malicious alternate personality created from emotions that Father had been forced to hide, had utterly destroyed the good person they loved, and Mother died of heartbreak after we were born."

"But then Vader assigned Captain Piett to find out who vaped the Death Star," Leia continued. "Luke's name came up, and it woke Daddy from his mental coma. It also weakened Vader to the point where the Jedi Knight was back in control."

"Piett was contacted by the Emperor, who tried to get him to spy on Father. The captain told him yes, but went straight to Father after, even though he didn't know the truth. He reported Palpatine's request, and informed Father that his immediate superior came before a distant ruler. It was enough to gain Father's trust, so Piett learned Father's _whole_ story, rather than the Imperial propaganda."

"Captain Piett made a connection between me and Mother, probably because I could pass for her twin, and told Daddy. The ghost of his very first Jedi Master began working with him, and he contacted us."

"That was around Expansion Week last year," Luke concluded. "Since then, Father has undergone major surgery to get out of the life-support suit, and he's currently _en route_ to Coruscant so that he can bring justice to the evil that nearly destroyed his life and lied to him for almost twenty years." By the time Luke finished, Mara was so pale that light freckles were visible across her cheeks.

"_Darth Vader_?!"

"Was an alternate personality that almost destroyed Daddy, yes," Leia replied.

"Oh _hell_. The Emperor blew up because he suspected the effect your name would have on his biggest weapon, and he didn't know the damage was already done." White had become visible all around her pupils. They were all silent for a moment.

"You said something about being used?" Luke queried, breaking the silence.

"Palpatine." She almost spat the name. "He told me ages ago that I was the only Emperor's Hand, but there are others. Lady Ismaren, for example, Princess."

"That doesn't surprise me," Leia replied, a hint of irony in her voice. "So you found out, and then what?"

"I made my plans and waited for a new opera to open. That night, while the entire court was gone, I took everything I could from his private playground, where the Palace connects to the Imperial Museum. Then I left, without anyone seeing me. I don't know what your security people did with my pack; everything I own is in there, as well as the artifacts I was able to save from further defacement."

"I'll find out and get them for you," Leia offered. "And I'll let Security know you're cleared while I'm at it." As she left, Luke sighed.

"That was… easier than I'd thought it would be," Mara mused.

"Yeah, well our family link helped. Do you mind if I meditate for a while?" _Father needs to know that I've sent him a message._

"Not at all. Could I join you, maybe? It's been a while since I had the time and privacy for a session." He blinked a moment, then nodded, taking a seat on the floor. The redhead mirrored his actions as he slipped into a light trance.

_Father,_ he thought, reaching along the cord of the Force that linked them. When it trembled with Anakin's touch, he allowed a thin stream of his emotions to flow toward the other end; concern, love, and a touch of anxiety. The anxiety would prompt the older Jedi to check his messages. Meanwhile, Luke was also trying to ignore the prickling sensation of someone watching over his shoulder.

After a moment, his father's usual acknowledgement came through, but then Anakin sort of… _reached_ back along their connection. Luke heard a buzzing sound, like someone talking on a distorted comm channel, then an odd pull. Mara's previously indistinct Force presence became _very_ clear suddenly, and something about it sent his mind reeling. He felt his father's amusement and the redhead's puzzlement before they seemed to concentrate on each other. The 'talking buzz' increased for a moment, then Anakin gave him a strong Force-hug. Leaving a lingering sense of affection, the older Jedi departed, and Luke slowly emerged from his trance. Mara was staring at him.

"You're _that_ strong, yet you have only the most rudimentary training?" she blurted. His confusion must have been obvious. "I could see the links to your father and sib as soon as you went into the trance, but you don't have enough training to talk or understand someone talking to you. And I thought _my_ training was lacking. You barely know enough to touch the Force and project emotions."

"Well, _excuse me_. I only found out that Old Ben was a Jedi and that I could use the Force three days before he was killed. That's all he _got_ to teach me." Mara held up her hands in surrender.

"She's right, Luke." Ben's voice came out of nowhere, then the old man materialized. "You should be much further along, since I can still teach you, in a way. Instead, I've been giving you younglings history lessons." For some reason, the redhead was eyeing Ben oddly.

"You look awfully familiar, old man, but I _know_ I've never met anyone named Ben." The Jedi spirit thought for a moment, then closed his eyes as a visible change came over him: the white hair darkened to a reddish brown, his age lines vanished, and he seemed to gain bulk, especially across his shoulders and down his arms, while losing weight further down.

"More familiar now, young Mara?" he asked. Luke thought her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

"_You're_ The Negotiator?"

"Yes, child." Ben rolled his gray eyes. "Of course, Anakin usually got more results with his 'aggressive negotiations.' One example, and the others always just fell into line." If Mara hadn't been sitting already, she probably would have fallen, the surprise on her face was so strong. "I'm not infallible. I'm just as human as anyone else, which is why I failed Anakin when he needed my support and caring most. At least events turned out _this_ way rather than any other. A lot of disaster and pain has been averted, thanks to Firmus Piett."

Luke took a deep breath, trying to settle his emotions, then spoke. "So, Ben, care to teach me this thing about talking? I'd like to be able to talk to my Father without having to clear out a comm station."

End of Chapter

Yes, Leia's calling Anakin "Daddy." In my world, Bail didn't let her call him anything other than Father, so Daddy is her real father, who would do anything for her. shrugs Yeah, I'm weird. So sue me.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow, a baker's dozen reviews for ONE chapter? I'm flattered! Thank you all for your comments. I'm sorry I didn't get this up earlier; it took me two weeks to get the chapter written, and I had it ready to post last night, only to find out that we had a major telephone malfunction in the area. But it's up now, so you can put your vibroaxes away! As some of you already know, I enjoy feedback so much that I'll reply to reviews, especially when there's a question about something I've done, so logging in helps me do that! pokes Jesse Special thanks go out to Second-Last Herald-Mage, with whom I've been trading comments on a fairly frequent basis. You keep giving me ideas, and now I'm starting to have trouble keeping my characters on track! whitedino, again, thank you guys there at Berea College for your support of VT.

If anyone notices something WAY out of character, especially for EU characters, please bring it to my attention, and I will do my best to fix it. I will admit that I don't know everything about Star Wars, though I try. I use Wookieepedia extensively, but it does fall short in some areas, like character personalities. Without further ado, here's the chapter!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 5

To say that he was surprised by Mara Jade's defection to the Rebellion would be an understatement. The last time he had seen her, the youngest Hand had practically worshipped Palpatine. That had been almost three years ago, though, and the girl had realized the truth behind at least some of Sidious' lies.

Anakin was grateful for the warning she had brought. It worried him that the Emperor knew about Luke; he'd increased the complement that guarded the brig to a full company at any given moment. Force willing, nothing would be reaching his former master from the _Executor_.

A familiar klaxon sounded, signaling the reversion to realspace. The rainbow colors of hyperspace stilled, became individual lines, then shortened to pinpoints. The city-world of Coruscant loomed in the viewports, all but a sliver of the planet lit only by the billions of lights on the surface.

"Incoming transmission from Command, sir," Lieutenant Tagge announced. Anakin turned slightly in his direction in acknowledgement. "Orders to maintain current position until cleared, quarantine procedures. They don't want so much as a fighter leaving our bays until they give the okay."

"Not even the Emperor's Favorite pet?"

"Nothing, sir. They're citing possible contamination circumstances." The Jedi frowned. _This is… __**abnormal**__, at least as far as the attitude towards Vader goes._

"Focus our sensors on any Golan Stations within striking range—theirs, not ours," he ordered. "Monitor communications channels for fighter traffic headed in our direction." An affirmative murmur ran through the collection of junior officers and clones manning the bridge.

The minutes seemed to drag on forever as they waited for _something_ to happen. Fifteen minutes passed in near silence.

When a crackle erupted from Anakin's utility belt, he wasn't the only one who jumped. It took a moment for him to realize that the noise was his personal comlink. Only a handful of people in the entire galaxy had his frequency, and he hadn't expected any of them to be on Imperial Center. _What the hell?_

"Uncle D, I hope you're on that thing, 'cause I've got trouble!" Only one person had the guts—or maybe lacked the brains—to give Darth Vader a nickname and use it to his face.

"Kreth!" He fumbled the tiny comlink from his belt, keying it on. "Jix, forward hangar bay, klick and a half back, dorsal. I'll meet you there." He was already halfway to the door when the Corellian replied.

"Don't know if I can get that for, Uncle D. There's three squads on my tail, and this Headhunter was already on its last legs!"

"Scramble fighters, make sure he gets through," Anakin shouted over his shoulder. His long legs began to eat corridor with an ease he'd missed.

"What the kriff?!" Jix exclaimed after a couple of minutes. "Something's up, Uncle D, and you're in the middle of it. I'm gonna find out, ya know."

"Yes, Jix, you are, and sooner than you might think," the Jedi replied. He smiled to himself as he realized he hadn't sounded like a running man. _You're in for one hell of a shock, 'nephew.'_

Reaching the hangar at last, he slid to a halt and watched as a half-dozen TIEs guided a charred and limping Z-95 through the magcon field. Anakin folded his arms, smirking, as the damaged snub touched down. Its engines—the two that had gotten it this far, at least—died with a flash and a cough.

The Headhunter's canopy came unsealed with a hiss, and Anakin began to hear a familiar litany of curses. The pilot pushed on the transparisteel; smoke billowed from the cockpit as it opened further.

"Fraggin' piece of _poodoo_ fighter. 'D like t'slit the dealer's kriffin' throat…" As the smoke cleared, a muscular human male became visible. It was Jix, all right; he'd never seen anyone else wearing clothing quite like the Corellian's preferred garb.

Anakin was hard pressed to contain his amusement at Wrenga Jixton's antics. Before too long, the man would notice him, and _then_ he'd laugh. As it was, his smirk grew into an outright grin.

Jix finally turned away from the slagged snubfighter, only to freeze as he saw a stranger waiting for him.

"Who in the nine kriffin' hells are _you_?" The dark brown eyes glared at him, the goggles perched on Jix's head seeming to echo them.

Anakin just couldn't help himself anymore. He laughed. It was perhaps the only thing that might even remotely connect him to Darth Vader, not that anyone besides Jix would ever realize it; only the Corellian had been able to get Vader to laugh, and it had never happened around anyone else. As amusing as his mechanical frustrations had been, Jix's reaction to the Jedi laughing at him was worse.

"Uncle D?!" he asked incredulously when the laughter had subsided to chuckles.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Anakin replied. The fighters that had gone out to assist the Corellian were returning, slipping quietly into their racks. With a small motion of his hand, the Jedi wrapped a tendril of the Force around the former combat instructor and lifted him, setting him gently on the deck. The shocked expression on the man's face was almost enough to make him start laughing again.

"H-h-h-… _How?_" He chuckled again, then motioned for Jix to follow him. This was going to be a long discussion.

Just as they were leaving the bay, a pair of stormtroopers trotted up, their helmets swinging from clips on their utility belts and exposing their mostly identical faces. Anakin vaguely noted the Corellian's shock as the older-looking trooper reported.

"Three Golan Stations are beginning to maneuver into position to fire on us, sir."

"Set course for…" He paused a moment, thinking of where they could go. "The Corellian system, drop out on the fringe, well beyond Centerpoint. We'll decide what our next move is from there." Both men touched their brows in an informal salute before quick-timing it back to the bridge.

As they resumed their walk toward Anakin's quarters, Jix opened his mouth to ask a question. The Jedi beat him to it with his answer.

"Cloning has been a viable technology for something like thirty-five or forty years. The Army of the Republic, back in the Clone Wars, was all clones of one man, and it became the Imperial Army when Palpatine declared himself Emperor. Their genetic makeup gets tweaked every so often, but they still come from the same group of cloners as the originals."

"So the Clone Wars were clones against…?"

"Battle droids, almost exclusively. _Those_ aren't around any more, thank the stars." By now, Jix was massaging his temples, and Anakin could sense the migraine building in the other man's head. With a tiny flick of the Force, the constricting capillaries expanded, and Jix sighed heavily.

"I hope you know what you're doing, messing around like that. I'd rather not end up drooling in a padded room somewhere, Uncle D." Anakin raised an eyebrow before responding.

"My Jedi Master made me learn that trick when I was fifteen, actually, because I gave him so many headaches. Nothing to worry about." _I'll probably need it myself before the day's out.

* * *

_

Leia was struggling to keep her temper in check so that she didn't scream with frustration. General Kenobi was trying to teach her to meditate, _again_, and failing spectacularly.

"It's _not working_, General," she finally protested when her stomach growled that it was lunchtime. The ghost sighed, and it was all the princess could do not to glare.

"You're worse than Anakin was, I swear," he groused. "I don't know any other ways to explain meditation." Obi-Wan frowned, glancing at Luke. Her brother had gotten it quickly, of course. He was sitting quietly in the corner—and floating about half a meter above the floor, the show-off.

_Well, we know who got Daddy's temperament,_ she thought. Peeved, she left the room and headed for the mess. She hadn't even reached the first intersecting corridor when her comlink chirped for her attention.

"Mistress Leia," she heard Threepio say. "There is an urgent hypercomm transmission for you, and she refuses to speak to anyone else."

"On my way, Threepio," she sighed. _**Now**__ what?_ She wondered. _We haven't heard from Daddy in almost two weeks, and Jade's become Intel's favorite person… What's next?_

Once she entered the hypercomm room, however, her immediate worries seemed to fade to insignificance.

"Leia, thank the stars you're all right!"

"Pooja?!" The Nubian senator had been her closest friend on Coruscant until the Senate was dissolved.

"I'd thought you were on Alderaan when…"

"No, Tarkin made me watch first-hand, though."

"I'm so sorry. I know the Viceroy was listed among the dead." Pooja looked almost worried to Leia.

"Is something wrong?" she asked her friend.

"The Emperor sent troops to my family's home in Theed last week. We barely got out ahead of them, and the search has been getting more intense every day."

"_What?_ Why your family?"

"My aunt indirectly made him Supreme Chancellor decades ago, when she was Queen. We've always suspected he had something to do with her death, and he's been watching us discreetly ever since then." The older woman sighed, fear and anger warring in her expression. "You wouldn't know someone who could get us off of Naboo, or somewhere we could hide, would you?"

Leia smiled tightly. "I know just the pirate for the job, and the Alliance would be glad to have you. Where shall we pick you up, and how many can we expect?"

"We have a house out in the lake country; I'm transmitting the coordinates." A printer began to whir off to one side. "There's twelve, counting Ryoo's new twins. How soon can you be here?"

"Unless Solo's in the middle of tinkering with his hunk of junk, we can get to Naboo within the week. Week and a half at the most." She gave her friend a soft grin. "I'm already looking forward to meeting the younglings and the rest of your family."

"Thank you, my friend," Pooja replied warmly. "May the Force be with you." Leia seized the flimsi as the printer finished.

"And with you as well. Be careful!" The transmission ended, and the princess left the room at a run. "Threepio, tell Luke I've gone to help a friend!" She didn't wait for his response.

Solo and Chewbacca were arguing over something when she reached the hangar they'd been assigned. The Wookiee saw her first and whuffed a greeting.

"I hope you have room for eight adults, two younglings, and a pair of infants on that heap, Solo. Is she fit to fly?" The pirate blinked at her.

We just finished up, Chewbacca replied. Where are we headed?

"Naboo." She handed him the flimsi and rounded on Solo. "Well? Fire her up, flyboy!"

"All _right_, Your Worship, I'm going!" Despite his protests, Leia nearly pushed him up the loading ramp. "I thought Naboo was the Emperor's home planet!"

"It also happens to be my best friend's home, nerfherder, and Palpatine's set his vornskyrs on her and her family. It's something connected to her aunt's death." As Chewie engaged the repulsorlifts, the comm station lit up with protests from Flight Control. She dropped into a seat to deal with them, leaving Solo and the Wookiee to handle the flying.

* * *

Luke sighed as he felt his sister leave Ord Radama. _Be careful, Leia. Return safely._ In return, she brushed their sibling bond with a light caress, almost like a fond kiss on the cheek. He reached for his father next; Anakin was occupied and cheerful, and he didn't feel as though he was worried about anything. Luke hoped that meant he was on his way to rendezvous with the Alliance ships that waited near Sullust, but he couldn't tell. 

_Please stay out of trouble, Father.

* * *

_

Anakin smiled to himself as he heard his son's plea. The stars knew he did his best, but sometimes there was no avoiding altercations.

_Lady Ex_ was getting ready to drop into the Corellian system, and he was in the middle of giving Jix a detailed account of the Boonta Eve Classic he'd won so long ago. He enjoyed recalling his last, best podrace so much, and having an appreciative audience never hurt.

The ship emerged into realspace just as he finished his story, and he leaned back against the side of his viewport to watch. Then Jix made an undignified squawk, and Anakin turned to see a vaguely familiar Jedi spirit materializing beside his desk.

"Ah, Skywalker, you made it!" The ghost wore robes in a much different style than what he was used to seeing; his undertunic was white, the trousers and overtunic in shades of emerald green, and his boots and belt were black as night.

"I'm sorry, Master, I recognize you from somewhere, but I'm not sure of your name," he apologized.

"Quite all right, young one. I don't think we were ever introduced, actually. Nejaa Halcyon, of Corellia."

"Really? Qui-Gon told me that your Order would be a good source for teachings on the Living Force."

"Well, yes, but I had another reason for contacting you." Master Halcyon's cheerful demeanor slowly changed as sadness flooded his expression. "I left behind my wife and teenaged son when I was killed on Susevfi, and my partner in CorSec sheltered them, even hid them from the Purge. He eventually married Scerra, and adopted Valin." He paused. "Rostek Horn is a good and brave man, one of the best I've ever known."

"I take it that he kept other families from the hunters?" Anakin asked.

"Hundreds, maybe even thousands of Jedi families owe him their lives. But… Valin followed in Rostek's footsteps, working as a CorSec investigator, and he was recently killed by an assassin. I fear for my grandson, Skywalker. He has no inkling of his heritage." Again, Halcyon paused. "Of all the Corellians whose families survived, they chose _me_ to speak to you. Please, find our loved ones and take them out of the Diktat's reach. I can lead you to Corran and Rostek, tech you the responses that will gain my friend's trust, and he has files on all our families, as well as copies of all the Temple's records."

Anakin could feel a gentle smile growing on his face. "Nothing would please me more, Master Halcyon. _Nothing_." This was why the Force had directed him here. "Just one thing, though." He received a questioning glance from the shade. "Those have to be the most colorful Jedi robes I have _ever_ seen." Nejaa burst into laughter.

"I worked with CorSec, Skywalker," he explained after a moment. "Their officers wear emerald and black uniforms, and those of us who worked with them on a regular basis followed suit. Believe me, these are far from 'colorful.'"

* * *

"Now _that_ looks like a pleasant planet to live on," Han commented when the _Falcon_ returned to realspace. "Plenty of water, varied terrain, a moderate climate…" 

"No, Captain, we can't set up a base on Naboo. It's swarming with Imperials." Leia was _this close_ to hitting the nerfherder.

"All _right_, Your Worship. I was just thinking aloud," he grumbled.

It might be an option once the Empire's gone, though, Chewie commented. Leia just stared through the viewport, anxious to see her friend.

The journey had actually been even shorter than she'd expected, taking only three and a half days to get a third of the way around the outside edge of the galaxy. _Maybe there's some truth to the pirate's boasts._ She still thought it looked like a junk heap.

Before long, the _Millennium Falcon _was skimming over a large mountain lake, her hull mere meters from the surface of the water. The freighter's slipstream kicked up a wake , but she wasn't worried about leaving a trail; the froth left behind them would quickly dissipate without a trace.

As they came closer to the designated coordinates, a stately manor hove into view from behind a steep hillside. Its age was apparent; few modern buildings adhered to the Nubians' traditional cube and cylinders topped by sections of spheres. There was a small clearing beside the house, just large enough to be a landing area.

Leia waited at the top of the loading ramp as it lowered. She was about to start down it when she got a sense of danger.

"Who goes there?" called a strong female voice. She could just see the muzzle of a blaster, braced across the top of a wall and pointed directly at her.

"Pooja? It's me; this heap makes even better time than I expected." The blaster disappeared, and the former Senator peered over the wall before coming forward to greet her.

"I'm so glad to see you, Leia," the older woman murmured as they embraced. "The search parties are getting far too close for comfort."

"We have plenty of room aboard the _Falcon_, and she packs some pretty decent firepower in case we _are_ pursued." The young woman looked around, extending her senses through the Force as Obi-Wan had been teaching her. "You can all come out now; we're your ride off-planet." She'd raised her voice just enough for the other five adults to hear from their chosen positions.

Pooja glanced at her oddly, which earned a raised eyebrow in return. She knew that she'd have to explain her Force-sensitivity, but it could wait until they were safely away. The youngest of the three men moved to Pooja's side for a moment.

"I'll help Ruwee and Jobal with the younglings," he said quietly. She nodded, and he turned back to the house, disappearing inside.

"How long is this going to take, Your Worship?" Solo asked, leaning against the bulkhead at the top of the ramp.

"Not long, gentlesir," Pooja replied. "We only packed a small case for the adults, and one for the younglings. Fifteen minutes at the very most." Leia frowned at her friend. _Why isn't she letting me get a word in edgewise?_

"Good, 'cause there's five squads of stormies within a three-klick radius of this place. You'd better hurry." Just then, the young man—Pooja's husband, probably—emerged with an elderly couple, a toddler, and a youngling who could be no more than seven years old. Each of the elders carried an infant and a traveling pack.

"Ruwee, could it be…" the old woman began. Leia suspected that this was Jobal Naberrie, Pooja's grandmother.

"It can wait, my love," Ruwee, the grandfather, replied. "Let us go before it is too late." The princess could only watch as the Naberrie clan filed quietly into the _Falcon_. She and Pooja brought up the rear as Solo and Chewbacca restarted the engines.

"You and I are going to have a _long_ chat once everyone's settled," the Nubian senator muttered, shaking a finger at Leia. She just nodded in reply.

* * *

Pooja allowed her friend to head for the cockpit while she checked on her family. Ryoo was already nursing one of the twins, and both of their husbands were making sure that Mother and Father were comfortable. Her daughter Janya and Ryoo's boy, Alain, were out of sight; they'd probably found somewhere to curl up together for a nap. Pooja was more worried about her grandparents. 

"Ruwee, Jobal, are you all right?" she asked when she found them staring out the forward viewport. Her grandfather turned, gathering her into a backwards hug.

"Your friend, Leia… Who were her parents?" Jobal asked.

"Bail and Breha Organa. She was Senator for Alderaan until the Senate was dissolved. Why?" Pooja fixed her grandmother with a stare. The elders shared a long look before she sighed.

"Your Aunt Padmé was good friends with Bail. She told us once that Breha was unable to carry a child, dear one." Her dark eyes closed as though she were in pain. "Padmé didn't take her child—or children—to her grave. This Leia bears such a striking resemblance to her that I cannot help but wonder if she might be your cousin." Words failed Pooja.

"And Ryoo is not the first person in the family to have twins," Ruwee added. "My older sisters were twins, and I had twin cousins, as well."

"I… was going to talk to her anyway," she finally managed. "I'll let you know what I find out."

* * *

Dun dun duuuunnnnn... 


	6. Chapter 6

I know, I took a week and a half to get this together, but last weekend was pretty busy. Still, it's up now, and I'm working on the next chapter. Anakin's retelling of his own story later in this chapter is my perception of the prequel trilogy and the events in A New Hope. I don't claim that this is how things really were; it's how I see them from my personal experiences. Everyone has the right to agree or disagree, but that doesn't make it right to lambast someone for their beliefs. That said, I appreciate constructive criticism, but I will not tolerate purely derogatory reviews. I appreciate that everyone who has reviewed so far has been positive, and I really encourage those types of response, not just for my own stories, but for every story hosted by this website. Thanks, and enjoy the chapter!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 6

The tapcaf was seedy, at least to Anakin's mind, but then, he hadn't set foot inside one for twenty years or more. In front of him, a neglected glass of water sweated away, while Firmus was happily nursing a mug of lomin-ale. The Jedi hadn't ever really indulged in any chemical intoxicants before Mustafar, and he wasn't about to poison his new organs. He had better things to do than cloud his mind and judgment.

He'd been watching the establishment's main doors for over an hour. Master Halcyon had directed him here, saying that it was the preferred after-duty haunt of CorSec officers in Coronet City. There were indeed plenty of the green-and-black uniforms gathered at the bar and in the surrounding booths, but there was no sign of young Corran. He was beginning to wonder if the boy would show up.

"The barkeep says the kid should be in sometime during the next hour," Jix commented as he slid into their booth on the other side of the table. Anakin wasn't even going to ask what was in the man's tankard; this was his second refill.

The three of them sat in amiable silence for a while, Firmus watching the CorSec contingent as Jix kept a wary eye on the shifty group in the back corner. Though Anakin kept his eyes on the front, he could feel hostile stares aimed at him from that dimly-lit corner.

Just as he was contemplating the use of a Jedi mind trick so that the gazes would go away, a group of four entered, only one of them not wearing a CorSec uniform. The youngest one was a dark-haired kid, younger even than Luke, but he wore the green-and-black as though it were his own skin. Then, Anakin noticed two things; the kid's eyes were just the same shade of green as his jacket, and he _glowed_ in the Force. True, it was a muted glow, but quite reminiscent of a glowrod behind a thick shade. Somehow, the boy had either learned to shield, or it was a subconscious reflex to prevent his detection.

"Got him, gents. The kid that just came in," he muttered. Firmus hummed as he, too spotted Corran. "I'll wait until he leaves, then catch up to him outside, and you two meet me later." Both men nodded casually, and Anakin relaxed, content to watch. Young Corran was a maelstrom of energy, coils of grief and righteous anger tamed only by the determination to find his father's killer and bring him before the authorities for justice. Through the Force, the Jedi received a very clear image of a Trandoshan, and the name "Bossk."

He gradually got a feel for the power at the young man's disposal and just where his strengths would lay if he were trained. There was almost no ability for telekinesis, but mental suggestion was another thing entirely. Rarer was a talent for absorption of energy, which could potentially give enough of a boost for small acts of telekinesis and massive mind tricks. Another facet of this talent was the ability to _direct_ energy, such as explosions, and harness the power. To boot, there was a piloting instinct in the youngling that nearly rivaled his and Luke's.

He groaned suddenly as he realized where his thoughts were headed. _Here I am, just redeemed from the Dark Side, and I'm planning the training of a youngling I haven't even spoken to. __**Where**__ is my brain?_

_You worry too much, Skywalker,_ Nejaa's voice whispered to him. _Actually, __**I **__think you'd be a very good mentor for Corran._ Anakin snorted at the idea and took a long swallow of his water.

"Visitor, sir?" Piett asked. The Jedi rolled his eyes, nodded, and tapped his temple in a casual gesture. The Axxilan smirked. "He's probably right, whatever he's saying."

Moments later, Anakin's head snapped up as Horn stood, saying something to his friends that couldn't be heard over the ambient noise. The Jedi set a fifty-credit chit on the table as he rose.

"Keep your comlinks on," he instructed before leaving the table. It took just a little concentration to distract others so that they dismissed him; even less was needed to track the youngling, now that he was becoming familiar with his Force signature. Horn followed a wandering path through Coronet City, with no obvious destination, and Anakin moved forward to match his pace after about a klick.

"Detective Horn?" he asked quietly. He was met with a scowl.

"I'm off-duty, gentlesir. I do not conduct investigations outside of the precinct's orders." Horn shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as his shoulders became hunched. "The precinct is open at all times, and there are investigators on every duty shift."

"Forgive me, Detective, but you seem to have misunderstood me. I was acquainted with your grandfather many years ago and wish to renew our association, but none of the frequencies he gave me at the time are valid anymore."

"Oh. I don't know if he'll see you, sir, but there's no harm in trying. This way." With a bit more confidence in his step, the youngling set out, leading Anakin into a residential district and down a dead end street. A shorter, graying man stood waiting on the front steps of the last house.

"Your grandmother is working on dinner, Corran," the older man said by way of greeting. "She's worried that you haven't been eating enough." The boy disappeared through the door with a mumble of assent, and Rostek Horn turned his attention to Anakin. "I've seen you before, but not in the last couple of years, or I'd be able to identify you."

"I've been… out of sight for almost twenty years," the Jedi replied. When Rostek did not reply, he set a hand on his hip, gently gripping his lightsaber through the long coat he wore. Horn's eyes widened for a moment.

"Fearless?" Understanding the man's whispered reference to the name he'd been given by the press so long ago, Anakin nodded. "Come in, then. I'd say we have much to discuss."

* * *

"Is everyone all right, Pooja?" Leia asked when her friend entered the cockpit. Then she saw her friend's thunderous expression and gulped. _Oh, this is __**not **__good…_

"_When_ were you going to tell me that you were adopted?"

"It wasn't ever talked about, not even at home. I believe it was actually something of a state secret; the Emperor's agents could not be allowed to find out. Now that I know about my birth parents, I understand why that was so." If anything, the Nubian senator looked even more aggravated.

"Explain." The 'now' was implicit.

"My real mother was a senator, and my father is a Jedi. You _know_ that Jedi were forbidden emotional attachments." Pooja nodded, and the princess continued. "They had married in secret, with two droids for witnesses, and no one knew about it until just before the Purges. Even then, only a handful knew, and it was still concealed. My twin brother and I were separated and hidden for our safety, I in plain sight and he on a remote dustball. Apparently, no one could find a reason for Mother's death right after our births. Daddy… everyone that cared for him thought he was dead or as good as, but he heard my brother's name in connection with the Death Star's destruction, and… it's like he was reborn." As Leia was elaborating, the older woman had sunk into the remaining crash couch.

"Do you know anything about your mother?" she was asked quietly.

"Some," she replied. "She was Nubian, like you. A Queen when she was young, when she first met Daddy, and then later the senator. Her name was Padmé—"

"Amidala. Padmé _Naberrie_ Amidala." Leia's eyes went wide, surely a match for her friend's features. "My _aunt._ We're cousins, and we never had a clue."

For once, the princess was glad that Solo and Chewbacca often became too engrossed in their ship to pay attention to anything else.

"Grandmother was right," Pooja whispered. "Twins, and you both survived before Aunt Padmé gave up. Spast, this is… overwhelming."

"Imagine _my _surprise when _I_ found out."

A pensive look came over the older senator before she spoke again. "Your father… he must have been Knight Skywalker. He came to Theed with her when I was four, protecting Aunt Padmé from an assassin."

"If it was right at the beginning of the Clone Wars, then it might have been when they got married. I got to see a recording of the ceremony; I think it was at that lake house." They lapsed into silence.

"You're Force-sensitive, then?" It wasn't really a question, but Leia nodded. "That's how you knew everyone was covering you."

"Yes," the princess whispered. Then she grinned wryly. "Luke's much better, though. I apparently don't have the necessary patience." Pooja snorted.

"You may look just like Aunt Padmé, but you definitely got Knight Skywalker's temperament. He had difficulty sitting still for a meal, even when he was inhaling the food like he'd never seen it before. What happened to him, that no one knew he was alive?"

Leia took a deep breath before beginning. This was going to be the hardest part. "You told me that you worked in mental health before becoming Senator. There were… _things_ that happened to Daddy, including having to hide his relationship with Mother, that he separated from his Jedi training, and it caused a deep rift in his psyche."

"And all the negatives he hid became Darth Vader." Her stare must have conveyed her surprise, for Pooja continued. "It makes sense. The Jedi's Chosen One, having to live up to so many expectations despite very strict rules, and his alter became a Sith Lord."

"You…" The younger woman wagged a finger at her cousin. "You're getting tested as soon as I can arrange it. That was far too good, too close, to be a mere guess."

* * *

Corran scowled. He'd had a rough day at the precinct, with Loor breathing down his neck, and he had _wanted _to talk about it with Grandfather. But _no_, that strange man had to butt in and get Grandfather caught up in stories about 'the good old days.' On top of all that, his gut instincts were telling him that there was more to the tall man than met the eye.

"If you keep that up, your face will freeze in that position," Grams chided as she began setting the table for four diners. "Why so sour?"

"Loor, mostly," he admitted, but then he glanced at his grandfather's closed office door. "Who is that man, and why are they being so kriffin' paranoid about being overheard?" Scerra took the seat beside him and squeezed his hand.

"If that gentleman is who I suspect he is, then they are likely discussing things that would get us all imprisoned, or worse, killed by the Empire if anyone heard them," she replied.

"Like Grandfather's old partner?" he asked as the possibility dawned on him. _A Jedi?_ She smiled as she nodded.

"It may be that their star is once again rising to shine on the galaxy, to drive away the shadows of lies, deceit, and corruption." Grams glanced toward the office again, a small mysterious smile gracing her face. "I can almost feel it."

* * *

Luke felt it when the _Millennium Falcon_ reverted to realspace on the outskirts of the Ord Radama system. Leia's presence was suddenly strong in the Force, and he could feel other Force-sensitives with her. Han's fragile power was the only one he was familiar with; there was another with a similarly faint signature, three with mid-grade abilities, and a pair of brilliant little lights, as bound to each other as Tatoo I and Tatoo II.

As the ship wove through the system at the upper edge of its sublight capabilities, Luke jogged towards Flight Control. When he passed Wedge in the corridor, he waved at his friend, only for the man to join him moments later.

"What's up, boss?" the dark-haired man asked.

"Han and Leia are back in-system. Wanted to warn Flight Control." He glanced at his XO. "You don't have to come."

"Aw, but then I'd miss all the fun of watching them. They'll refuse to believe you at first, then flip when everything you say is confirmed." Luke couldn't help but chuckle; he hadn't made much of his growing knowledge of the Force, and a lot of the Rebels were skeptical types.

Indeed, Control reacted just as Wedge had predicted: with great disbelief. Rather than engage in a useless argument, both pilots simply leaned against a wall to wait for the _Falcon_'s signal. Han would follow landing procedure; he'd contact Control when he passed the first set of markers.

The Rogues were probably the only members of the Alliance that were at all accustomed to Luke's acute perception. More than once, he'd sensed that a pilot was injured or ill and sent them to the infirmary, where his actions were invariably justified. Now was no different; he'd told Control what he knew through the Force, and they would soon find out that he was right.

"_Millennium Falcon_ to Control, requesting permission to land," he heard Han's voice say as the comm system crackled to life. Two techs turned to stare at the fledgling Jedi as others carried on with their duties.

"Control to _Falcon_, transmit your security codes." There was a brief pause as data was exchanged. "You're clear, Solo. Proceed to Pad 32." Luke grinned at the deck officer's strange look, turning into the corridor again.

"We told you so," Wedge commented cheerfully before following his squadron leader. "So where did Solo and the princess go?" he asked.

"One of Leia's friends, a former Senator, I think, became the target of the Emperor's hunting packs, and she requested help to get her family off-planet and out of sight. I can tell they have several aboard that definitely didn't leave with them," Luke explained. Wedge nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets as they walked.

They arrived at Pad 32 at almost the same time as the _Falcon_ herself. As soon as the ramp lowered, Leia dashed out and threw herself upon her surprised brother.

"You'll never believe what I've found out," she murmured before releasing the young Jedi.

"More incredible than six Force-sensitives among your passengers?" he asked with a smile. The princess blinked for a moment, then hit his arm.

"I'd suspected one, but six? It _does_ make sense, though." Another young woman, a few years older than the twins, emerged from the freighter, and Leia waved her over. "Pooja, this is my brother, Luke Skywalker. Luke, former Senator of Naboo, Pooja Naberrie—she's our cousin, on Mother's side."

He was registering shock from Wedge—probably over the fact that he and Leia were sibs—but now it was _Luke's_ turn to be astonished. Pooja was one of the three mid-level sensitives he'd sensed, and she was their cousin?!

"Ryoo—my older sister—is trying to calm Tria and little Ruwee, but she's not having much luck. Would you like to meet everyone?" the Nubian woman asked. It was all he could do to nod mutely, and she took his elbow to lead him aboard the _Falcon_. With the entire family in the ship's lounge, introductions were swift, though Ruwee and Jobal—he couldn't get over having _grandparents_—gave him fierce hugs.

As Wedge was being interrogated, Luke found himself drawn to Ryoo and the infants. She smiled when he asked if he could help, and he was soon cradling the little girl, Tria. As she beamed at him, he felt her bright Force signature reach out and touch his, and he could almost hear joyful music.

"She could be a very powerful Jedi someday," he told his eldest cousin quietly. When Ryoo glanced at him with a shocked expression, Luke elaborated. "Both of them, actually. In the Force, they appear like a binary system, a pair of brilliant suns bound to each other. Leia and I share a similar bond, though it has been strained to its very limits by our long separation." At this, the woman nodded.

"Obi-Wan shouldn't have done that," she murmured. "Mother would have gladly taken you both."

"That would have only put all of you in more danger," the young Jedi replied with a gentle smile. He gazed down at the little miracle he held. "Palpatine would have sensed us the first time he returned to Naboo, and the consequences would not have been pleasant." A tiny hand reached for his chin, and he occupied it with his finger instead. "Fortunately, Tria and Ruwee will never be in that sort of danger."

Ryoo gave him a grateful look, and they soon left the lounge for the quarters that were being set up for the family at that very moment.

* * *

When the final Tinta Cruises liner moved away from the _Executor_ and made the jump in-system, Anakin sighed in relief. Nearly ten thousand beings of widely varying species had chosen to end the masquerades they'd been living since the end of the Clone Wars in favor of joining the Alliance. How Rostek had convinced the Tinta family to transport the refugees quietly and without charge to the _Executor_'s position in the system's fringe was beyond him. The man was a closed book; Nejaa must have taught him to block mental intrusions years ago.

"Sir? A word, please?" Lieutenant Tagge's voice brought his wandering mind back to the bridge. At the Jedi's nod, the young man continued. "The, ah, prisoners are becoming quite restless. It might be a good idea to find somewhere to maroon them."

"True," Anakin conceded. He began to rub his temple with two fingers as he thought. _Where __**can**__ we put the Sithspawn that they won't be able to return to Imperial service?_

Out of nowhere, a strong mental probe hit him, nearly hard enough for Anakin to physically stagger. Before he could form any sort of query for the vaguely familiar Force presence, it had retreated, leaving behind a single word.

"Dagobah." He looked at Tagge. "We'll set course for Dagobah." The lieutenant saluted, a grin threatening to emerge on the young face.

Anakin spent most of the next four days in meditation, trying to contact that Force presence again as _Executor_ swept through hyperspace. At times, he would sense it for a nanosecond, only for it to skitter away like a tiny animal fleeing from a tusk-cat. The ship's return to realspace, however, proved to be what he needed. The being was _there_, incredibly strong, yet ancient. Anakin had only encountered one being in his life with that particular Force-signature: Master Yoda.

_Honored Master,_ he projected. _One begs leave to communicate with you, that the Order of the Jedi might rise again in these troubled times._

_So. Returned from the Dark Side, have you? Believe this I do not._ Anakin smiled fondly as he 'heard' the uniquely odd syntax.

_What must I do to prove my repentance, Master? I cannot give life back to those nearly twenty years dead._ A tear slipped down his cheek as he thought of all those defenseless younglings. _Nor can I reverse the damage done to while Darth Vader was in control of my mind, my body, and my powers, as much as I wish it were possible._ He thought of Leia, of Alderaan, and Owen and Beru Lars.

_On the surface, see you I will._ Yoda's presence was suddenly gone.

_Strange little green guy,_ Anakin thought to himself with a fond chuckle.

_Heard that, I did!_ The brief rejoinder was enough to bounce him out of his trance, laughing. He headed for the bridge to pinpoint Master Yoda's location for his officers, to keep them from worrying about him too much. With that accomplished, his steps turned toward the fighter bay.

Though much of the space had not changed since he took command, one corner was dramatically different. Before he learned of the twins, it had been pristinely clean, with few techs willing to approach the TIE Advanced. Now, there were tools and equipment scattered all over the corner, as well as dirty rags, bottles of hydraulic fluid, and other miscellaneous bits from the ship's gradual metamorphosis.

The fighter no longer resembled a TIE in any way. In fact, Anakin's tinkering had brought it more in line with the vessels used by the Jedi toward the end of the Clone Wars, with its small wedge shape, reminiscent of a miniature Star Destroyer. Most of the triangular hull was painted a deep blue, where the durasteel was not interrupted by bits of solar panel. Only a few bits of trim remained grey, as Anakin planned on having them chromed if he ever got access to any chromium.

It took him almost no time at all to prep the fighter for flight, and he soon felt the odd sensation that always accompanied passage through a magcon field. Anakin indulged in a slow barrel roll, which turned into an exuberant display of aerobatics. He hadn't been in his fighter since before they'd received the orders for Coruscant, and he truly felt free now, for the first time in his life.

When he finally made landfall on the jungle planet, the Jedi knew he wore an immensely pleased expression. As he slipped out of the fighter, a tiny figure emerged from the undergrowth, leaning heavily on a gnarled gimer stick. He inclined his head in polite greeting to his old teacher.

"You look well, Master Yoda."

The little being scoffed. "Look as good you will not, when nine hundred years old you are." Anakin had to suppress a chuckle.

"I hope I never see such an age while my body yet lives, Master, because something would _really_ be wrong with that."

"No respect for age have you! Humans…"

"I only tease because I like you, Master. You were very kind to me when I joined the youngling classes, and was struggling to catch up to my age-mates."

"Humph. From the start, trouble you were. From the Dark Side, no return is there." Anakin closed his eyes and forcibly calmed himself as he sat on the ground. Yelling at Master Yoda would not help his case.

"For any other Jedi, one with nothing to live for but power, that would probably be true. But… Power means nothing to me, not if those I care for are not with me either physically or in their hearts. Palp- no, _Sidious_ was using me, maybe from the very first time he set eyes on me, at the Nubian landing platform when I first came to Coruscant. I think he might have somehow forged a link, even then. It might have, I don't know, warped the Council's evaluation, magnifying my child's fears into whatever you saw then. The distrust I was shown then formed a pattern that plagued me even when I was a Knight.

"Then, when I told you of my dream-visions, and you dismissed them, I thought there was no way but his, if I wanted my wife to survive childbirth. I turned to save Padmé's life, and in that act, I condemned her." He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he spoke. His eyes remained closed against the ancient Master's reactions, so that Anakin would not see whatever expressions Yoda showed.

"When I came to after Mustafar—no, when _Vader_ came to, for by that time we were nearly separate entities—his first words were to ask about my Angel. Sidious replied, 'In your anger, it seems you killed her.' Believing that my own hand had slain my wife and our unborn child nearly killed me as well; Vader and Sidious thought it _had_. He didn't care about anyone or anything after that, not even himself.

"Then, almost two years ago, I saw a man I'd never thought to encounter again, and a few months after that I learned the name of the youth that had been traveling with him. Luke, my son that I thought I'd killed before he could take his first breath, broke the strings that bound me to my non-existence. The knowledge that Leia, who'd been practically in my face for years, was my daughter became the death blow for Vader. My name was finally Anakin again, for the first time in almost two decades, and I knew two things: I had two brave, beautiful children to be proud of; and I _had_ to do something to end the damage I had begun to inflict on the galaxy.

"I have been unable to ambush Sidious; he knows now that Vader is gone forever. If death is to be my punishment for what I have caused, I ask only that I be allowed to see my children with my own eyes before I die, to tell them that I love them."

"Yoda, can you not _see_ beyond the flawed teachings of the Temple that raised us both?" he heard Qui-Gon say. "Look at him with the Force. _That_ is how he appeared when I first met him on Tatooine. Not a single _speck_ of Darkness within him, just a being with normal, _healthy_ emotions." Anakin flinched as he heard the gimer stick being jabbed into the packed dirt.

"There is no emotion; there is peace," Master Yoda quoted insistently. "There is no passion; there is serenity."

"Those two phrases were _added_ to the Code only a thousand years ago. The Corellians never had them, and while Coruscant had the Lost Twenty and who knows how many Jedi expelled in that millennium, how many did Corellia lose? _None._ No one turned to the Dark Side; no one was expelled for not agreeing with the Code. That alone told me that it was wrong to forbid emotion and passion in the Jedi while I was alive; now, being one with the Living Force, I have been told outright that those facets of life are _vital_ to the Jedi."

"He is right, Master; I have felt it too, since I became one with the Force." Anakin inhaled sharply as he heard Obi-Wan join the discussion. He still felt so very guilty, both for what he had put his Master through on Mustafar and for his slaying on the Death Star. A comforting arm was slipped around him, squeezing just as Obi-Wan had done when his padawan was troubled. "I forgave you long ago, my brother. Let it go; those were not Anakin's actions or words."

"But—" he began.

"But _nothing. Vader_ attacked me, both times, not Anakin. My little brother has never harmed me." There was a moment's pause. "Not intentionally, at least. Even then, you always apologized too much."

Without warning, Anakin lost his battle against his tears. Sobs racked his body, and he clung to Obi-Wan's robes as he was pulled close to the other Jedi. It had been nearly thirty years since Obi-Wan had comforted him this way.

"Shh, Ani, it's all right. Hush, now." Between the familiar voice and the hand smoothing his hair as he was held, Anakin began to calm. He could hear Qui-Gon and Yoda muttering at each other, though their words were indistinct.

"Go with you, I will," Master Yoda finally announced. "Your prisoners left here can be. Find food easily, they will."

"Yes, Master," Anakin murmured, scrubbing at his eyes. "There's not much room aboard my fighter…"

"Make do I will. We go, now." The strange little Jedi smacked Anakin's shin with his gimer stick, apparently wanting him to move faster. The flight back to the _Lady Ex_ was strained, neither of them speaking despite the fact that Yoda practically sat on Anakin's shoulders.

A half-squad of stormtroopers was waiting when the fighter returned to her corner. None of them wore a helmet, as was becoming common, and the trooper in charge was obviously no clone; his hair was so blond, it was almost white.

"Orders, sir?" the young man asked as he saluted.

"Our prisoners can be shuttled to the surface. They won't need supplies; the planet can easily support them. Master Yoda is in need of quarters… Might I arrange for a hoverchair like the one you favored at the Temple, Master?" A curt nod was all the answer Anakin got. "A hoverchair as well, then. I… believe that is all for now, gentlemen."

"Escort me to the bridge you will, Commander," Yoda demanded of the blond trooper. The man didn't argue, instead leading the tiny Jedi away at a carefully slow pace. With a sigh of relief, Anakin turned back to his fighter.

The pair of brief flights had made some minor adjustments necessary, and he usually did a bit of post-flight maintenance anyway. At least it would keep him busy and, hopefully, out of Master Yoda's way.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, all. I'm sorry this took so long, but I spent all weekend on a trip with no computer access, since mine is a desktop. Still, I got quite a bit done, and I think Chapter 8 is getting close to completion. As before, your reviews are really encouraging to me, so feel free to comment. Enjoy!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 7

It had been just over a week since he'd left Coronet City, and Corran was still reeling from the revelations. Though it was rather incredible, he could believe that Grandfather was really his step-grandfather. He'd never seen a holo of Nejaa Halcyon, so he was withholding judgment on that score. Still, it was downright _weird_ that his father had been teaching him little bits of Jedi lore disguised as ways to improve his investigating. What was next?

_Corran,_ a voice seemed to whisper in his ear not two seconds after the thought formed. _Son, you need to calm down. This behavior is not going to help anything._ As the voice continued to speak, he recognized it.

_Dad?_

_Remember the things I taught you. Master Skywalker will be a very good teacher for you. I looked up to him so much when I was your age, you know. You've made me a very proud man, Corran._

_I miss you, Dad._ Even though it had been more than a month, the pain was just as raw as ever.

_Don't. I'll always be right here, near you. You just listen to the Force and your instincts._ There was a brief hesitation. _I have to go, now, but I __**am**__ with you. We have a special connection; all you have to do is call me. I love you, son._

"Love you, too, Dad," Corran whispered. _Kreth, now I'm gonna cry,_ he thought, feeling the tears build. He needed to occupy his mind, but with what? Though Gil, Iella, and Diric had left Corellia with them—Grandfather had trusted them enough to tell them that the Horns were joining the Rebel Alliance, and all three of them had demanded that they come as well—there was little investigating to be done on the _Executor_. If he found them, the conversation would turn to stories about Hal Horn.

No, he needed something to do that had as few memories of his father involved as possible. Maybe he could find this Master Skywalker? Momentarily, he wondered if there was any connection there to the Luke Skywalker who had been mentioned in several rumors about the destruction of the _Death Star_.

His mind made up, the dark-haired youth left a message for his grandparents and began wandering the corridors. He _tried_ to get Whistler to stay in the suite, but the R2 unit just tweeted at him and continued to tag along. Surprisingly, the first crewman he encountered knew who he meant and gave him an answer.

"Master Skywalker is usually in the main fighter bay," the lieutenant explained, pointing out the location on a ship schematic. "He's been working on his fighter the last few days." At this, Corran brightened.

Before long, he and Whistler had found the correct bay, and the young man nervously ran a hand through his hair before entering. It was a busy place; at least twenty techs were doing maintenance on TIEs, that he could see, and there were a few pilots about, too. One corner caught his eye, though. It was _dirty_, for one thing, parts and scrap metal scattered across the deck plates, along with half-dried puddles of fluid.

The vessel that sat amid the debris was unlike any fighter Corran had ever seen. It wasn't a slim dart like the X-wings CorSec used, but it certainly wasn't an Imperial design, as it looked nothing like a TIE. In fact, it most resembled a miniscule Star Destroyer in shape, with its pointed nose and the wide stern that housed a pair of ion engines.

Something fell with a clatter, and there was a yelp followed by a string of Huttese obscenities. Startled, Corran noticed a pair of boots just visible on the other side of the craft. Their owner moved, and they disappeared for a moment.

"Master Skywalker?" the teen asked, intensely curious. Whistler's tweet echoed him. If _this_ was the person his father recommended as a teacher, Corran suspected that they'd get along famously.

"Yes? What is it?" As the Jedi spoke in Basic, the Corellian recognized his voice; it was the man who'd approached him in Coronet City. The one who had talked with Grandfather for so long.

"Why did Grandfather call you 'Fearless?'" he blurted, asking the first question that came to mind. He saw a hand grab the fighter's edge, and then the older man was peering over the ship to see him. Bright blue eyes blinked at Corran for a moment.

"Wh—I was one of the most famous Jedi in the galaxy during the Clone Wars. Not that I _wanted_ the attention; it made my life that much more difficult. The press started calling me 'The Hero With No Fear,' and it stuck." There must have been a question in Corran's eyes, because Master Skywalker continued. "Most of the Jedi were forbidden to have emotional attachments, you Corellians being the notable exception. Because of that rule, my marriage was a complete secret.

"The public thought I was fearless, the way I fought back then. I was never worried for myself, just for Padmé, and I only wanted things finished so I could see her again." The Jedi paused, pain flashing in his eyes. "Things—bad things—happened at the end, though, and my wife was killed. I almost followed her to the grave, which is why I've been out of sight for so long."

Corran could hear how reluctant Master Skywalker was to talk about his wife. _He loved her very much; it must have been terrible._ "What brought you back into the open?"

"Finding out that our expected child hadn't died with Padmé." The young detective blinked. "I didn't know that we were having twins, and they were separated and hidden shortly after their birth. Imagine my surprise when I heard my surname attached to the pilot who vaped the _Death Star_."

"_Luke_ Skywalker? No way." Master Skywalker nodded. When Corran just stared back at him, the Jedi smirked.

"Help me out with the _Angel_ here, and we can talk more." The young Corellian was more than happy to take the offer.

* * *

She watched the blond and the brunette pace and tried _so _hard not to laugh. Solo was lucky; as a smuggler and gambler, he'd perfected his sabacc face years ago. She hadn't; Mara Jade wasn't a woman who played many games.

It was terribly amusing, the way Luke and Leia were behaving. Their paths paralleled each other, but the twins seemed to be at opposite points in their pacing.

"Where the hell _is_ he?" the princess would mutter periodically. The pilot hadn't said a word, but he didn't need to. His sister was saying enough for both of them.

Apparently, the former Darth Vader was late for his rendezvous. He _should_ have been orbiting Ord Radama for a week now, but he wasn't. According to the last communication from the three vessels waiting at Sullust, he hadn't shown up _there_ yet. Mara had tried to explain to the twins what the Force was telling her, but they were having none of it.

"You're making me dizzy; cut it out," Mara finally growled. "I'm telling you, he had to detour and make a few stops. They're headed for Sullust as we speak." When the only response from the pair was death glares, that was _it_.

"Farmboy, I hope you have your 'saber on you, 'cause we're sparring. _**Now**_." As she spoke, the redhead grabbed the sleeve of Luke's flightsuit and began to drag him towards the large room that had been designated as the fitness center.

She knew for a fact that neither of the Skywalkers had been practicing their forms, which was the most important part of her own training and routine. _This is going to be __**fun**_ Better yet, she'd been working on hers twice a day of late, teaching Alain Staven and Janya Naberrie. The pair of younglings had wandered in during her usual early-morning session one day and were promptly enthralled. They hadn't interrupted her, but waited until the end before begging her to teach them.

"I hope you're prepared to be handed your own rear end, Skywalker." That was all the warning she was going to give him. _I'll teach __**him**_

* * *

It was pitch black. There wasn't a single source of illumination to give objects discernable forms.

Without warning, there was a loud gasp, long, deep, and desperate, like a drowning swimmer being brought to the surface just short of death. There was no one to hear but the being who made the sound.

There was a soft patter as hands felt the surroundings, trying to form a mental image of the space in order to figure out where the person was. Nothing but stone could be felt within reach, save for the rustling cloth covering the searcher's own body.

There was a brief shuffling sound as the stranger struggled to their feet. One foot, then the other, was lifted to step over a low stone barrier. Two tentative steps later, the stranger nearly tripped over a similar wall, which caused pain to shoot up from where their legs had hit the top edge of the stone.

"Where am I?"

No one answered.

* * *

"Two minutes to reversion, Admiral," a clone announced. Firmus turned and nodded at the trooper, then looked over at the Communications crew.

"Prepare a tight-beam transmission of the clearance code. Be ready to transmit to the largest ship there as soon as we emerge. It may have to be repeated to get their attention."

"Yes, sir!"

As he turned back to the main viewport, Piett smiled to himself. From the way the mixed crew was working, clones and originals together, no one would ever guess that nearly three-quarters of those currently on duty had never touched the controls before the mutiny three weeks ago.

Of course, Firmus had found that nothing was going exactly to plan, and this had been the case ever since he'd found the information on Luke Skywalker and his friends. This occasion was no exception.

Two freighters and a heavily modified Corellian corvette were present as the _Executor_ slowed to sublight drives. Naturally, the crews of the much smaller ships seemed to panic upon seeing the Imperial flagship.

"No response to tight-beam, sir!"

"Keep trying. Attempt a tractor lock. That code _must_ get through!"

Silence descended, with the men at Communications and Fire Control especially intent on their duties. It took nearly five minutes, but the corvette _did_ stop. The two freighters moved to cover the larger ship against the nonexistent threat.

"Uh, confirm clearance code, _Executor_," Firmus heard. Someone had had the presence of mind to route incoming transmissions through the speakers. Lieutenant Tagge was in charge of the section this shift, standing behind a clone at one of the stations.

"How many tries, Lieutenant?" Piett asked.

"Eight before we received a response, sir. One would think that their people would be more _calm_ in such a situation, not frightened out of their minds."

"Too true, Lieutenant. Carry on."

"_Ronammelyn_ to _Executor_, this is Captain Teksa. I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge over there." Beginning to grin, Firmus moved to stand beside a clone's station.

"Captain, Admiral Piett here. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Admiral, we thought we were waiting for a much smaller vessel, a _Carrack_-class or maybe a Dreadnaught at the most. Our crews have been getting a bit restless, since we've been here four weeks now. Any chance we could come aboard, stretch our legs a bit?"

"Of course," Piett replied. "We'll have no problem accommodating your ships, but we'd prefer to bring you in with our tractor beams so as to minimize potential collisions and such." Firmus straightened and looked towards Fire Control. The lead clone there nodded, signaling that they were ready to lock on the smaller craft.

"Understood, _Executor_. I look forward to meeting you, Admiral; this should be interesting. _Ronammelyn_ out."

The Axxilan straightened, then moved over to Fire Control to find out which docking level they were setting aside for the corvette. Knowing the quickest route to the main bay helped, though the _Ronammelyn_ was gliding to her new berth by the time Firmus got there.

The corvette's boarding ramp lowered, and some fifteen or twenty crewpersons emerged. They were a more motley group than he was used to, but that was probably the norm for the Rebellion; three Twi'leks and a Sullustan were members, and two of the humans sported night-dark skin.

"Admiral?" one of the Twi'leks asked as he was spotted.

"Yes, that would be me," Firmus replied. The other man grinned, flashing a set of sparkling white and needle-sharp teeth.

"Captain Anoon Teksa, sir." The ends of his _lekku_ twitched, drawing a moment's attention. The flexible brain-tails were covered with elaborate tattoos, the brilliant colors masking but not hiding the pale blue-violet of the Twi'lek's skin.

"Admiral Firmus Piett." He extended a hand and was mildly surprised when Teksa gripped it firmly; as far as he knew, Twi'leks generally disliked physical contact with persons they did not know. "Would you rather wait for the freighters, or shall we find a conference room so I can answer your questions?"

Teksa turned to the large, dark-skinned human man and spoke in a hushed tone. Whatever he said, it was a command of some sort; the other man nodded and moved toward the rest of the corvette's crew, while her captain turned back to Piett.

"I would appreciate the opportunity to hear how the defection of _this_ particular vessel came about, Admiral." Firmus gestured toward the blast door, then led the way down a corridor to a small lounge nearby. The room had been a favorite hangout for the non-cloned fighter pilots, at least until the mutiny. Now it was usually empty; it was an ideal setting for the coming discussion.

"You appear to be fully crewed," Teksa began as soon as the lounge's door had closed behind them. "How did you manage to find enough Rebel sympathizers to make this possible?"

Firmus, spotting a fresh pot of caf, poured himself a cup and considered his response.

"Most of the men I command now could care less who was in charge of the galaxy, so long as they are treated decently and kept occupied, because neither the Empire or the Old Republic would have allowed them to be full citizens." He leaned against the counter and watched the captain closely. "Most stormtroopers are clones. Essentially the same as the Grand Army of the Republic, as they are provided by the same group." Gold-irised eyes widened, and Piett gestured at the pot, silently offering a cup of the strong black stimulant. Teksa nodded, finding himself a chair and sitting at the small table.

"So they're not all unswervingly loyal to the Emperor?"

"Not at all. A refresher course on the _Lady Ex_'s controls and processes, and they've become at least as good as the Navy men who used to handle it all. Apparently, they receive a very thorough and intense training during their accelerated childhoods." He found a chair of his own and sat across the table from the Twi'lek. "I suspect that their unanimous decision to support our non-military leader over Palpatine has something to do with the way the Grand Army operated twenty years ago."

Teksa leaned toward him, cradling his hot mug. "Do tell, Admiral."

"The Grand Army was commanded by Jedi, for the most part."

"But… I thought that the Jedi were all gone. Didn't Darth Vader kill most of the ones who survived the end of the Clone Wars?" Firmus grinned ferally.

"There were some that he and the hunting squads missed entirely. Yes, Master Kenobi ended up dying on the _Death Star_. Master Yoda, though, was in hiding until we picked him up last week." He saw the Twi'lek's look of dismay. "He came of his own free will, I assure you. Our biggest advantage, however, was one that _nobody_ could have anticipated." For a moment, Firmus savored Teksa's rapt attention. Then the door hissed open.

"Darth Vader was destroyed from within himself." Anakin strode into the room, wearing a stained blue flightsuit and wiping his hands with a work-rag. A slim, dark-haired youth slipped in behind the Jedi, outfitted similarly. Firmus couldn't help the chuckle that rose at Teksa's expression.

Anakin lifted a hand to forestall the Rebel's questions.

"May I introduce Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker?" the Axxilan said, smirking. At his friend's raised eyebrow, he added to his statement. "And the young man behind him is his padawan, Corran Horn." The kid went a little red at the acknowledgement.

"But… you're supposed to be _dead_!" the captain sputtered. After a brief moment, he lowered his head. "No offense meant, Master Jedi."

"None taken," Anakin replied calmly. "No one _knew_ I was still here. Once I heard about Luke, I was able to destroy Vader. I wasn't able to reach Palpatine, but I _will_."

Silence reigned for a few minutes, then Teksa shook his head ruefully, his _lekku_ writhing. "_Now_ I know why Commander Skywalker was so involved in setting up this rendezvous."

The blond Jedi smirked. "I'm headed for the bridge. What course shall I tell the crew to set?"

"Ord Radama, Master Jedi. The High Command and, um, Luke are on Ord Radama."

"And Luke's twin sister," Anakin added. At Teksa's incredulous stare, he elaborated. "My daughter hasn't been using my surname, not that she doesn't want to, knowing of our relationship."

Captain Anoon Teksa didn't have a response to _that_.

* * *

"Females, of _any_ species, are confusing," he mused. A rumble of agreement came from his first mate. Han had retreated to the _Falcon_ in order to escape from Her Highness-ness. If he hadn't known any better, he might have suspected that the princess was losing her well-bred mind.

It was times like this when he questioned his _own_ sanity.

You should tell her that you would be her mate, Cub, growled Chewie. She will mate with some other male if you do not.

The pirate groaned. "Not you, too. She doesn't like me, buddy. Not even in a remotely friendly sense." A barking laugh was the only response.

"Fine. Be that way. Maybe I _will_ tell her. Then, when she vapes me on the first run, I can say 'I told you so.'" He stalked from his ship, frowning.

_I can't believe that __**Chewie**__ has started in on me about that,_ he thought. _She deserves better than me, better than a stupid smuggler._

As he walked, the tension drained from his body, and he wandered. He had no idea what to say to Princess Leia, and trying to think up a suave line wasn't doing any good. Besides, slick lines were for light women; Leia was anything _but_.

He found himself in front of Her Worship's door unable to recall exactly how he'd gotten there. The door was already chiming. _What the hell am I doing? Is there still time to make a run for it?_

Too late. The door opened, and there she was, looking up at him with those brown eyes that always turned him into a puddle of stammering goop.

"Yes, Captain?" Frag it all, she was fluttering her lashes… He tried to say something, but no sound came out of his mouth.

"Is something wrong, Captain Solo?" The look of concern on the princess' face was his undoing. He leaned down, lifted her chin with one shaking hand, and did what he'd been wanting to do since the firefight in the detention block.

He kissed her.

* * *

When dealing with Captain Han Solo, Princess Leia Organa Skywalker had a very few rules, the most important being that he _never_ approached her, it was always her going to him for something.

He had just broken every rule in the book. Then he really took her by surprise.

When his lips touched her, every nerve in her body seemed to fire at once. Leia inhaled sharply, blinked, and turned to putty in his hands. She leaned into the warmth he radiated as her eyes closed. Han's gentle fingers on her chin burned; she wanted more of that, and her hands slipped under his vest to pull at his shirt.

The pirate had frozen at her tiny gasp, but the first tug on dirty white silk—and how in _hell_ had he managed to acquire _silk_?!—snapped Han out of his funk and into action. The hand supporting her chin slid along her jaw and then cradled her skull; his free hand encircled her waist.

Someone moaned; Han's grip on her tightened. They must have been having the same thoughts, because when Leia opened her mouth to invite him deeper, he was right there to ask permission. The kiss intensified, he stepped forward, and she stepped back, urging him further into the room without a word. The door hissed shut, and Han's shirt came untucked, allowing her to slip her hands underneath. A shuddering sigh ran through her body as she felt muscles rippling smoothly across his back.

After a few moments, the kiss slowed, becoming a gentle exploration of each other's mouth. Han pulled away for a second, and his expression stole what little breath was left in her lungs; she knew then what she wanted to say.

"I love you." His crooked little smile made her heart flutter erratically.

"I know." He didn't need to say anything more, because Leia could see all that she needed to know in his eyes.

An amusement that wasn't her own brushed her mind, and the mood shattered. She didn't need to figure out who was the culprit; she knew her twin's touch all too well.

"I'm going to _kill_ Luke." She got only a half step away before the pirate pulled her back toward him.

"Farmboy has nothing to do with me being here, Princess," he said gently, only for her to jump in angrily.

"That doesn't mean he's allowed to snoop." Han's brow furrowed in confusion. "Luke and I… we have a unique bond, one that I could never have with anyone else, and…" She broke off the explanation as he stepped away, his face downcast.

"I understand. I… I'm just an adventure, then."

"_No!_" Leia grabbed his wrist with one hand, the other on his cheek to gently force Han to look at her. "He's my _twin_. My brother."

"What?" His hands moved, gripping her upper arms tightly.

"Anakin Skywalker is my _real_ father. Bail adopted me when my mother died, just minutes after Luke and I were born. We were separated then, to hide us from the Emperor and Vader." As she spoke, his hands loosened and came to rest on her hips. "They thought Daddy was dead, but he wasn't. He was supposed to be here almost three weeks ago; we just got word that he reached the rendezvous."

"Ah. So… the kid was doing some sort of hocus-pocus?"

"He was using our sibling link to find out what I was doing," she growled.

"Well, then, wouldn't it work better if you scared him away from doing that, instead of beating on him?" Han asked, smirking. Then his lips were on hers again, strong hands sliding across her back as she lifted her own to thread her fingers through his hair.

* * *

Luke tried to keep himself in check as he felt Leia stop contemplating the infliction of bodily harm in favor of more activities like what he'd interrupted. He wasn't sure if he should be glad that Han had been able to defuse her anger or frightened at the prospect of having to put up with more echoes of his sister's tryst with the smuggler. The situation was already giving him an uncomfortable problem.

_Peeking was __**so**__ not a good idea,_ he thought, resolving never to snoop on anyone ever again.


	8. Chapter 8

Well, everyone, here's a treat for you: another chapter within a week! Don't expect this all the time; I had last weekend off from work, and got a lot done. I hope everyone enjoys it, because some of the scenes were real head-scratchers in the dialogue department. As always, I welcome constructive criticism, but flamers will feel the power of the Force! J/K And without further ado...

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 8

"Identification, please." Keeping her head down, she handed over the documents, one hand hidden as it rubbed a cool square of some creature's bone. Had it not been for a strange urge to _leave_, she rather thought that she would have loved to stay on this planet, this… Naboo. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't think of why.

"Farré Damarra. Reason for departure?" The officer's question confused her, but…

"Leisure, sir," she felt herself say, though it wasn't her thought. Oh, how it irked her, pretending to be so shy and weak. "My cousin is from off-planet, and I haven't seen him in years." _Where am I getting this load of kreth?_ she thought. No answer came to her, not like when someone else was asking the questions.

"Length of trip?"

"A month, maybe two if I have trouble finding my cousin."

The man shuffled the sheets of flimsi a bit, then handed them back. "Enjoy your voyage, ma'am." When he moved to the next being in line, she boarded the shuttle, forcing herself to a walk rather than the run she wanted.

_Corellia, here I come, I guess._ She fingered the carved pendant again, and then wrapped its cord twice around her wrist. The same voice that had told her to go to Corellia whispered that it wouldn't be wise to wear the necklace normally… Not yet.

* * *

Watching Master Anakin was fun, sometimes. Though his mentor usually behaved like a normal adult, there were some activities and situations that caused him to act as though he were only a few years older than Corran himself. Today seemed to be one of those days.

The Jedi Master was avidly peering through one of the bridge's viewports, his hands braced against the sill. What made it funny was that Skywalker was finding it impossible to stay still; he was currently bouncing on his toes.

Admiral Piett, a man whom Corran was beginning to like quite a bit, shot him a glance behind Master Anakin's back, then rolled his eyes. The padawan grinned back; his Master's oddities actually helped reduce the hero-worship that had reared its head early on. The Chosen One wasn't infallible. He only needed to think of Vader to reinforce that conviction.

"Thirty seconds to reversion," called a trooper. If anything, Master Anakin got more excited. _Executor_ decelerated, a giant gaseous planet coming into view to starboard. Captain Teksa, who had been silent until now, leaned over the ensign at Navigation to point out the route in-system.

"It would probably be best to contact the High Command now, Admiral," the tattooed Twi'lek commented. "If they catch this behemoth on sensors without a warning, they will go defensive at best, if not offensive." Piett nodded and turned to Communications to initiate a transmission.

Everything on the bridge became background noise as Corran felt his Master's Force presence somehow expand. The youth closed his eyes to shut out the physical world and saw two thick cables of energy extending from Anakin and stretching off in the direction of Ord Radama. There was a third link leading in another direction, no thicker than a shimmersilk thread, which Corran could just barely sense. He had only just found it when the other Jedi flared with pure light. It surged down the cables, with a tiny trickle flowing along the thread, and then Anakin began to speak.

"I made it, you two. I'm finally here." Though the Corellian could hear his Master, it wasn't by using his ears. There was an answering pulse of light and an unfamiliar voice.

"Father? Wonderful! Leia's driving me _mad_ down here." The voice was masculine, but young, with a tone similar to Master Anakin's.

_This must be Luke,_ Corran thought.

"It's his own fault, Daddy," interjected a feminine voice. "He shouldn't have been looking without permission."

_Leia… It sounds familiar, but where have I heard that name before?_ Anakin had refused to mention his daughter's name, stating that it would be her decision who knew until she chose to make the knowledge public, and she hadn't done either, not yet.

"I was wondering when the first sibling fight would occur." The older Jedi sounded amused. "Luke, consider this your first lesson in ethics. No invading someone else's privacy without asking, unless it is absolutely necessary. Being curious about your sister's activities doesn't count." There was a distinct aura of smug satisfaction from Leia until Anakin's attention turned to her. "As for you, young lady, stop pestering your brother. When I get down there and have a free moment, you're getting a lesson on shielding so you won't broadcast your emotions to every sensitive within five kilometers."

"Um, Master?" Corran asked, trying to speak only through the Force as the others were doing. "You sort of pulled me into this conversation. I think it was an accident."

"Oh, hell. Luke, Leia, this is Corran, my new padawan."

"Hi, Corran. I guess we'll be meeting you in person soon?" Luke asked.

"Yeah… I'm aboard the _Executor _with Master Anakin right now." He frowned, focusing on his mentor again. "Master, would there be someone else with a link to you, like the ones you have with the twins?"

A triple dose of shock and curiosity hit him. "What do you mean?" Anakin asked. "Can you sense Force bonds?"

He concentrated, first examining himself. There was a thick cord between himself and the older Jedi, vapor-like in spots but strengthening, and several others of varying thicknesses and 'materials.' As he 'touched' each one, he was able to tell who was at the other end. The thickest pair were his grandparents, Grandfather's a bit thicker than Grams', but hers seemed somehow stronger. Gil Bastra, his former supervisor at CorSec, and Iella Wessiri, who had been his partner, were the next largest and strongest, with several strings that were the new friends he'd made among the other Jedi families. There also seemed to be an odd chain between himself and Whistler.

He returned his attention to his Master, now seeing additional connections there, though none of them had the permanency of the first three he'd noticed. "I _can_," he whispered in awe. The Corellian reached out and 'touched' one of the thick cables. "That's Leia. This one's Luke," he added, switching to the second. One wispy cord was the admiral, another the man in charge of the stormtroopers. A tenuous strand touched the odd little Jedi Master they'd picked up the previous week. Finally, he reached for the thread as gently as he could. "This one… it's so delicate, like it was recently repaired, but it's much older than any of the others. I'm not picking up a name, but…" He looked up at Anakin. "She's _beautiful_, Master. Very beautiful."

The older man seemed to stare at his children for a moment. "We'll talk when I get to the surface." They sort of blinked out, the cables returning to the state in which Corran had first seen them. Suddenly, he was back on the bridge, his Master watching him intently. "This is… _interesting_," he said. "Not quite Like Master Windu's shatterpoints, but… My quarters. We need to discuss this, padawan."

"Yes, Master, of course." Corran was carefully formal as he addressed the Jedi aloud. Anakin was acting his chronological age again as they strode away.

* * *

He sat on the edge of his bed, a frown creasing his brow as his apprentice assumed a meditation pose on the floor. The boy's eyes closed, and his forehead wrinkled with concentration.

A faint image began to coalesce in the air between them as the Force surged into Corran. Not for the first time, Anakin was reminded of a lamp with a carved jade diffuser. The youth glowed gently even when not touching the Force; with it filling him as it did now, his 'lamp' could have easily lit a large room.

Several minutes passed, and the portrait cleared only minimally from the original fog. All he could make out was pale skin and a mass of dark hair, though for some reason he got an impression of gentle curls. Other than that, the woman was an indistinct blur.

"Kreth!" Corran growled as the image disappeared in a small flash. "I'm sorry, Master. I saw her so clearly, but I just couldn't get the projection to resolve any further." Even as the youth spoke, Anakin was probing to see if the sudden loss of control had caused any damage to the boy's connection with the Force.

"Easy, Corran. You did well, with as little training as you have. If the Force doesn't want me to see what you did, then so be it." He paused and extended his senses—what Corran's father had termed a 'sphere of responsibility'—beyond the _Lady Ex_. "Rest for now. I'll wake you when we're close enough to shuttle to the Alliance base."

Green eyes shone at him with respect as a small smile crept onto the Corellian's face. "Thank you, Master. I _am_ feeling a bit of fatigue."

"You're not used to touching the Force as often or as deeply as you've been doing for the last week. In time, you'll find the same activities much less tiring. Go on, rest. And I don't mean meditate, young man." Without waiting for a response, he left the room, only to be nearly toppled by the green-and-white R2 unit that Corran called Whistler. The droid trilled at him, and he crouched down to be on a level with its photoreceptor.

"Keep an eye on him, would you, Whistler? Kid's trying to run before he knows how to crawl. I don't want his talent burned out, or his intellect." The astromech chirped affirmatively. "Thank you. I'll be back for him later."

He took his time walking to the bridge. In some ways, Corran's newly revealed skill and the subsequent inventory of Anakin's bonds was reassuring; it was a relief to know that no link to Sidious remained, that he couldn't be influenced by the Sith Lord any longer. Yet, Anakin was mildly disturbed as well. Only three women had ever been that important in his life, to the point where he would have such a firm Force-connection. The first had been Shmi, his mother, and then there had been Padmé. Thinking of his wife _still _made his throat constrict with the sorrow. The third was Leia, of course, but his padawan had identified that particular link well before the more tenuous bond.

Whoever she was, this woman was a mystery that would be on his mind until her identity was discovered. Anakin frowned at himself and set the puzzle to one side of his mind, firmly settled there and out of the way, as he neared the bridge. There was quite a bit of noise coming from the _Lady_'s nerve center, and that _couldn't_ be a good sign.

"Will you people just shut up and _listen_ for a minute?" Firmus was almost shouting into the comm pickup. A babble of mixed voices came from the speakers, which explained the admiral's raised voice.

Anakin smirked as an idea came to him. A hand on his friend's shoulder calmed the smaller man as the Jedi took possession of the pickup. Two strides took him over to the nearest output, and he held the tiny microphone up close to the speaker. He signaled for everyone present to protect their ears, and, when they'd all complied, he depressed the switch.

_**SCREEEEEEEEE…**_ The feedback loop built to a crescendo before the pickup was switched off. Only a few pained groans could then be heard from the Alliance's Flight Control center. He stepped away from the comm station before bringing the pickup to a more normal position.

"I take it that I have your attention now, gentlebeings?" Anakin asked, pressing the switch as he spoke to transmit his voice. Someone on the other end mumbles an acknowledgement. "Send a runner for Princess Leia, and another for Commander Skywalker. I _hope_ you will listen to them, since the man _I _put in command here is apparently beneath your notice." An apologetic glance at the Axxilan was waved off with a grin. A few moments later, a handful of shocked exclamations were heard over the comm.

"That must be you, Father," Luke's voice said with a bit of a laugh. "Hang on a sec, and we'll get you an orbit."

"Thank you, son." Anakin leaned against the side of the crew pit, grinning from ear to ear, as Piett, Teksa, and several clones shook their heads ruefully.

True to Luke's word, a vector and altitude soon came through to indicate the assigned orbit, as well as designations for four landing pads; three of these were for the _Ronammelyn_ and her escorting freighters, while the fourth would presumably accommodate a shuttle from the _Lady Ex_. Pleased with the progress, Anakin made to depart, but stopped to speak with Firmus first.

"Page me once she's settled into orbit, and we'll assemble our landing group." The younger man nodded; they'd already decided on who would be in that group. The Navy men on duty would be given charge of the ship so that Piett could go, as would Anakin himself, Corran, Rostek and Scerra Horn as representatives of the Corellian contingent, General Veers for the stormtroopers, and Master Yoda.

Anakin could barely wait for landfall.

* * *

As they walked through the corridors of the Ord Radama base, Luke gently bumped his sister with his shoulder. She pursed her lips momentarily and then pushed right back, nearly sending him into the wall.

Han, laughing, walked up behind them and slung his arms over their shoulders. "Come on, now, your dad's finally here. Relax; take it easy on each other." His grin was infectious, and Luke found himself chuckling as Leia put a possessive arm around the smuggler.

It didn't surprise him much when Mara joined them; being Force-sensitive, they could all feel the incredible number of sensitives aboard the approaching capital ship. It would have been enough to draw the most reclusive hermit out, because there seemed to be _thousands_ of them. Luke couldn't be sure of the number—he hadn't stopped to count—but he doubted those presences were stormtroopers.

"Your father's here, then?" the former Hand commented as she fell into step with them.

"Scared the sense out of Flight Control," Leia replied. "They weren't expecting a Super Star Destroyer." The comment caused them all to chuckle.

When they arrived at Pads 15 through 18, several others had gathered there. Mast of the High Command was there, including Mon Mothma and Generals Rieekan and Madine. Wedge and the other Rogues sauntered over as the first pad was claimed by a battered Action VI freighter that looked even worse than the _Falcon_. A second freighter with the trademark disc-shaped hull of the YT series landed, followed by a well-maintained Corellian corvette.

Five minutes later, the slowly growing crowd looked up at the unmistakable sound created by the engines of a _Lambda_-class shuttle. The tri-winged craft circled once before hovering more than ten meters above Pad 18 as the lower foils began to fold up and the landing gear extended. Some of the onlookers began murmuring amongst themselves when the shuttle descended, rotating along its vertical axis until the boarding ramp faced the center of the gathering—right where Luke and Leia stood.

A hush fell as the ramp lowered, various systems belching clouds of vapor in an eerie effect. The first person to emerge was a bit obscured as he ducked to clear the underside of the shuttle, but once he straightened, all 'dignity' abandoned the situation.

Leia burst from the crowd at a run and threw herself at the tall blond man with a cry of "Daddy!" He staggered as he caught her, turning the movement into a bit of a spin. Luke, smiling, followed the path cleared by the brunette.

"Hey, princess," he just barely heard over the surprised whispers of the crowd. Then the man looked up, spotted Luke, and held out an arm. Some onlookers might have noticed a flash of polished metal at the stranger's hip, but then the young pilot, too, was enveloping the tall man in a fierce hug.

"I'm glad you made it safely, Father," he mumbled into the dark blue tunic. Anakin gripped them both tightly, then Luke felt his father bend to kiss first his head, then Leia's.

"I might just be the happiest man in the galaxy right now." The older Jedi sounded as though he were just barely holding back tears. "I only wish that your mother could be here, too."

A throat being cleared reminded them that others were around. Mom Mothma had made the sound; she and the rest of the High Command wore various curious expressions, obviously wanting an explanation. _Now._ Between them, the twins dragged Anakin closer to their superiors.

"Mon Mothma, Generals," Leia began, "this is Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker—my birth father." The last bit seemed to startle others just as much as the enthusiastic family hug, but the former Senator of Chandrila brought silence with a raised hand.

"We are honored by your presence, Master Jedi. Might we be introduced to your companions?" As the woman gestured toward the others exiting the shuttle, Luke admired her composure. Lady Mothma showed not a hint of the shock that radiated from her. Anakin relaxed his grip on the twins to begin pointing out others.

"Admiral Firmus Piett, my staunchest supporter and good friend, in charge of the _Lady Ex_," he began, indicating a lean man in a uniform that only vaguely resembled the Imperial garb. "General Maximilian Veers, who commands the stormtroopers." This was a slightly shorter and darker man in the same sort of uniform. "My padawan, Corran Horn, grandson of Master Nejaa Halcyon." The dark-haired youngster nodded, stepping closer to Anakin. "Rostek and Scerra Horn, representing the Jedi Families that have joined us from Corellia." The older couple smiled. Then Anakin peered around, looking for someone.

"Forget me you did not, Skywalker," called a gruff, almost cranky voice from the shuttle. A tiny figure slowly descended along the boarding ramp, leaning heavily on a twisted cane, with long, pointy, green-skinned ears drawing notice to a wizened face and large, knowing eyes.

"Master Yoda," Mon Mothma stated almost reverently. "I am quite glad that you evaded the Purges, Master." The diminutive creature huffed a bit, then scrutinized first Luke, then Leia. The pilot only just managed to keep from squirming under that gaze.

"They are too old," Master Yoda stated, turning to their father. "Too undisciplined to be trained. Work with the _young_ ones I will, not those who full padawans should be." Having finished his little speech, the Master returned his attention to the High Command.

Admiral Piett, General Veers, and the older Horns followed as Mon Mothma broke away from the crowd. With the 'important people' leaving, many of the others present moved closer to Anakin and the twins. _They_ didn't even notice until Corran took up a position that made it clear he was guarding his Master's back.

"If you don't know me or Luke personally, then _back off_," Leia stated loudly, accompanying her words with a glare. There was a snap in her tone and a gleam in her eyes that Luke had only rarely seen. For his part, his right hand had gone to the butt of his lightsaber, the one Ben had given him the day Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru died.

Most of the onlookers heeded his sister's words, drifting away quietly. The Rogues remained, as did Han, Chewie, and Mara. Corran visibly relaxed.

"Captain Solo?" his father asked, looking straight at the pirate and his Wookiee first mate. When the pair stepped forward, Anakin let go of Luke to offer the man his hand. "I owe you for watching my son's back at Yavin." Han returned the grip, but suddenly froze, his eyes going wide, and not just because the Jedi's grip had tightened painfully. "You'd better treat my little girl right."

"Daddy!" Leia protested, hitting his chest. "That's not necessary!"

"She's my _first_ priority, sir," the smuggler said quietly. After a moment, Anakin quit staring at the other man and eased his grip.

"Good." He turned then, looking at Mara. Luke felt the 'talk buzz' but shut it out, determined to keep his figurative hands to himself and not eavesdrop. When the redhead flushed, he wondered what had been said.

"I'll keep that in mind, Master Skywalker," she replied aloud before almost melting into the small crowd at the edge of the landing zone. That left only the Rogues in their immediate vicinity.

"Father," Luke said then. "My friends… well, the squadron that I'm in charge of… They'd like to meet you." The Jedi grinned down at him, then ruffled his hair fondly. Luke's response was to squawk and duck, his hands up to try to repair the damage. Laughter erupted among his pilots, and he shot them a betrayed glare.

"Captain Wedge Antilles, sir, second in command, executive officer, Rogue Three." The Corellian stepped forward to stand at parade rest as he rattled off the information. Then Wedge grinned. "I had Luke's wing at Yavin, as did Biggs Darklighter, who knew him from Tatooine."

"Then I owe you and Biggs as well," Anakin replied. Luke saddened, thinking of his friend, and Wedge's face matched his sudden change in mood.

"Biggs took a hit meant for me, Father," he muttered. "He didn't make it." He actually felt when the older man realized what he was talking about.

"Forgive me; my mouth isn't always connected to my brain." This comment actually brought a few chuckles from the pilots. "Shall we find somewhere to sit for the rest of the introductions? Force knows I'm itching to hear some new flying stories. I have some of my own, from the Clone Wars," Anakin offered. There was agreement all around, and the group moved indoors.

* * *

His mind was in analytical overdrive as Corran followed his Master and the group of fighter pilots. Rogue Three's name had set a bell ringing in his head, and he was tracking down _why_. After a moment, he moved ahead in the group, touching Antilles' elbow gently. He was met with a raised eyebrow.

"Corellian, right?" Corran asked. The older pilot nodded. "Refueling station explosion at Gus Treta, emblem a green and gold check on a field of black?" The suddenly wide eyes were all the answer he needed. "My dad was on the investigation team. I'm sorry they never caught the pirates."

"Don't worry about it, kid. I appreciate it, though." Antilles was silent for a moment. "Did something happen to your father? Not trying to jump to conclusions here, but I'd think he'd have come with you, you know?"

"He was killed almost two months ago," Corran replied quietly. The captain put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but let the subject drop.

He felt better for having spoken to Captain Antilles. When the group reached a roomy lounge, Corran was able to relax and actually enjoy the stories being swapped and the battles of years past.


	9. Chapter 9

Alright, I know I told someone Sunday night at the latest, but there were unforeseen problems over the weekend, and I had no computer access from Thursday afternoon through this afternoon. So, I finished typing this today and now it's up. Just as a little reminder, the _Star Wars_ calendar has 368 days, divided into ten 35-day months, three celebratory weeks, and three holidays. A week is five days long to them. I know some things get explained over and over again, especially Anakin's background and the events of _Revenge of the Sith_, so I'm trying to gloss over those bits some. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Next chapter is going to be rather eventful, and I hope to have it out within two weeks, but preferably sooner. As always, your reviews and comments are incredibly helpful, as they stir my creative processes and help me stay within the characters and enviroments that Mr. Lucas and the various authors and producers he pays have created. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 9

_This is __**so**__ not right,_ she thought, pulling her hood forward more to hide her face. Creeping through a military compound in the dark of night wasn't something she'd normally do, but that same voice in the back of her mind kept urging her onward. It had gotten her safely this far, though, past two sets of sanctimonious officials demanding to know her travel plans, countless troopers in white armor, and even the tight security on this post. If she didn't know instinctively that she wasn't Force-sensitive, she would have attributed the voice to such abilities. As it was, its existence baffled her.

_How many ships do I have to pass up before I can get out of here?_ she wondered. She'd gone by six, no, seven light transports now, and she was unsure of her ability to pilot anything much larger. Still, that nagging little voice insisted that she continue.

She rounded a corner and was forced to stifle a gasp even as the realization came that _this_ was what she was looking for. It must have been fifty or sixty meters from stem to stern, at least, with flowing, organic lines unlike anything she'd seen since she awoke.

She'd been getting memories back lately, slowly at first but now more rapidly, remembering who she was and the details of her life before the dark room. Those recollections were now giving her a great deal more confidence. Despite the fact that it was more than triple the size of the light transports she'd passed, she could handle this craft by herself.

Nubian shipwrights designed their vessels to be flown by a single pilot as an emergency precaution.

Looking at her ship again, she noticed that it was a stylized avian form, recalling a native Nubian reptavian that was common to the swamps near Theed. It made her smile wistfully. Watching the peko-pekoes from the back garden had been one of her favorite activities as a child. For a moment, she wondered where her children were, what had happened to them while she was… whatever she had been before waking in the dark. The thought was fleeting, though, and she crept closer to the ship.

It was the only vessel in this particular bay, and there were no troops visibly guarding it, at least not inside. A dimly glowing panel marked the hatch, and she entered a code, hoping that factory procedures hadn't changed. Hydraulic systems hissed quietly as a section of hull descended with the lift, and she thanked the stars that the administrative override still worked.

Light spilled from the opening into the dark hangar, and she rushed aboard. The last thing she needed was for someone to walk by and see _that_. When the hatch had resealed, she relaxed enough to take in her surroundings. They were unexpectedly harsh, in stark contrast to the ship's exterior with the boxy and confining lines. The color scheme didn't help, either; black flooring, dark gray walls, and the occasional splash of blood-red fabric cast a morbid pall over everything.

Supremely disappointed in the previous owner's taste—this beauty was _hers_ now—the woman kicked one of the 'columns' set against a bulkhead. The sound was definitely _not_ that of durasteel, and she thought she saw one edge pull away from the wall. She had no doubt that a more elegant Nubian interior was somewhere behind the stark façade.

She moved forward, looking for the control room, passing hatches as she walked. The forward end of the corridor terminated in a single door; when she palmed the control pad, it slid open with only a whisper of sound. Thankfully, the previous owner hadn't attempted redecorating in here. The control center was refreshingly traditional in the Nubian style, and the three main consoles gleamed and winked at her. She settled into the central command couch and began the warm-up sequence.

One difference immediately struck her as she scanned the other controls. Unlike the Nubian vessels she'd used in the past, this one was armed—heavily. Though this made her uneasy, it would help; she doubted that she would be able to get out of the bay without turbolasers, let alone off the base. _What kind of shape is the galaxy in if Nubian shipwrights are arming craft of this size?_ Once again, she wondered how long she had been in that dark room.

A soft chiming alerted her that the engines were prepped for takeoff. One command engaged the repulsorlifts, a second deploying the ventral laser cannon. The first shot rattled the hangar doors and set off a set of sirens; the second blew them wide open. Another klaxon joined the chorus, louder than the others, as she opened up the throttle, but her real worry was potential pursuit. Two fighters screamed overhead as she wove between buildings in search of a clear area large enough for her to turn her vessel toward the skies.

A part of her was shocked badly by the apparent changes in technology evidenced by those fighters. There was so little _ship_ in the things that she had to wonder if the pilots were being protected from anything beyond temperature and vacuum. A small ball encompassed the cockpit and engine mounts and was bracketed by a pair of canted solar panels. The design was just as minimalist as the retrofitted interior of her ship.

As the pair of fighters swung around to fire on her, she input a command on a side screen; blasts sounded from above her as a dorsal cannon rained deadly bolts on the wing pair. One of them lost a solar panel, the support strut sheared cleanly from the cockpit. Unbalanced, it began to spin wildly about the remaining panel, crashing into the other craft and bringing both of them down.

Her vessel rounded a corner, and there was suddenly open space on all sides. With one hand, she pulled back on the control stick as hard as she could; the other hand pushed the throttle as for as it would go. A throbbing hum became audible as she sped through the atmosphere, decreasing as the air became thinner and then nonexistent. Oddly, no more fighters rose to challenge her escape. In-system traffic was light, just as it had been when she arrived two days ago.

Veering away from the blue-green light cast off by Beshqek, she set the auto-pilot to take the vessel to the system's outer edge, away from any gravity wells, giving her a chance to figure out where she was supposed to go next. Then she switched seats, accessing the navicomp with a practiced ease.

_All right, Padmé, you've secured your own transport,_ she thought to herself. _What are you supposed to do with it, and where?_

_Ord Radama,_ whispered the odd, genderless voice that had been prodding her along since she woke. _Away from this dark, tainted world._ With a shudder, she entered the name and sat back as the computer calculated the most efficient route. She wanted desperately to take a shower or a bath if the facilities were available; as short as her stay had been, Byss made her feel incredibly filthy. Her skin had been crawling the entire time.

The navicomp chirped at her, and Padmé glanced over the jump calculations before instructing the craft's computer brain to begin the first jump as soon as possible. She stood again, glanced around, and ran a hand across the console in something of a caress. A tremble ran over her skin, and she left the control room, searching for the main cabin and the refresher it would contain.

Then, she resolved, she would begin stripping the interior down to the original décor. It would occupy her for the week or so she would be in hyperspace. The fact that it would distract her from her worries about Ani and little Luke and Leia would be a welcome side effect.

* * *

A warning light on the console flared amber, and Jix swore before kicking one of the side panels beneath the readouts. The light turned off obediently, and he cursed again. He couldn't tell if the battered YZ-900 was going to make it to Coruscant or fall apart on him in the middle of a jump.

_Why do I always seem to pick the dealers with the most abused craft for three parsecs?_ he asked himself. It sure wasn't something conscious. Maybe some higher being had it in for him.

The Corellian hadn't really _volunteered_ to keep an eye on Palpatine, but he was doing the job anyway. He would have rather stayed on the _Executor_ and joined the Rebels, But Uncle D—now Uncle A and a much more interesting person—had _asked_ him to do this. Anakin had stressed the importance of knowing what the Emperor was up to, and Jix simply couldn't find it in himself to refuse.

And now here he was, hurtling through hyperspace in a rusting heap that might disintegrate at any moment. Still, the situation wasn't _all_ bad; he had a sizeable cash pile available, even after purchasing the _Yevan Lady_, which he could use to get her in good working order, and he was headed for the center of galactic civilization. Jix was still working on his plans for the actual watching part of his mission, but he'd already figured out his schedule for entering Coruscant and settling in right under the Imperial nose, so to speak.

He'd get through planetary security with a false identity and name for his ship; once inside Coruscanti airspace, he'd take the _Lady_ to see a good friend of his who had a way with starships. With the ship under repair, he'd then rent a nice apartment under another name. The one-time soldier was determined to live the good life on the credits Piett had been able to procure.

His stockpile currently stood somewhere between three and four million Imperial credits. The admiral had rather impressive slicing skills for a man on the straight and narrow; Jix had no idea how many accounts had been altered to create the one he'd converted to cash, and the Axxilan hadn't batted an eye at the request. In fact, Piett's words were, "Might as well use Imperial money to bring down the Emperor."

Hours passed before the _Yevan Lady_ dropped out of hyper near Imperial Center, her lightspeed engine popping and clanking as it disengaged. Jix sighed. One more thing for Dex and his crew to work on.

"Corellian YZ-900 freighter, transmit identification, cargo manifest and destination," the comm announced with the tones of a bored traffic official. Stretching a bit to reach the comm station, Jix flipped a switch to send the doctored information.

"_Shadow Voyager_, Pilot Daclif Gallamby speaking. I'm hauling electronics parts today." He kept his voice casual, almost as bored as the officer's, as though he, too, did this five days a week, 368 days a year. It must have worked; there was only a normal delay before he was given a flightpath for his descent. Had there been no delay, it would have alerted him to a betrayal; on the other hand, if it had been unusually long, that would have been a sign that Planetary Security had seen or heard something to cast doubt on his cover story.

_Yevan Lady_ groaned as she hit atmosphere, and the Corellian slowed the vessel even more. _**Please**__, let me get down in one piece,_ he thought. If the ship began shedding parts, the debris could be dangerous, and the Imps would be on him like ugly on a Hutt. Then it would be 'good night, Wrenga,' for the last time, because he'd never allow anyone to imprison him again, not after Kessel.

He reached over to the comm again, turning off the first switch and powering up another set of transponder data. Now, to any traffic droids, the ship would read as the _Mythic Blaze_, with him as Chel Feroon, and he would be supposedly waiting for the delivery of his next cargo: med packs, a tank of bacta, and two old medical droids. It was all smoke and mirrors, though, for neither Chel nor Daclif was a real person, and the false monikers for the freighter were equal fabrications. Chel was his cover for his accommodations and a long-term docking bay or landing pad.

Dex, on the other hand… The Besalisk had become a friend a few years back, shortly after Jix had become Vader's go-to man. Apparently the alien had once owned a diner in the upper levels of Coco Town, before the rise of the Empire and its humano-centric policies. At one point, the big xeno had confided that some of the Jedi had been frequent customers at the restaurant, including one Obi-Wan Kenobi. Boy, was Dex in for a surprise when Jix could get him in a private spot.

Before lone, the _Yevan Lady_ was nearing the edge of the so-called 'Alien Protection Zone,' and the Corellian turned on his personal comlink. He'd entered Dex's secure frequency during the last jump, so he only needed to press the transmit key.

"Jettster, my man with the hands, d'ya read me?" he asked, crossing his fingers and hoping.

"That you, Wren?" came the reply after a minute. "I was hoping His Imperial Nibs hadn't gotten ya when word got around."

"Nah, DJ, I'm good. Better than, actually. Can't say the same for my _Lady_, though. She needs a good helping of your magic touch."

"Well, my boy, I've had to move since the last time you brought a gal in. The new place is about thirty-eight degrees east of north, right at the edge of the Zone. I'll turn on the lights for ya."

"Great. See you soon, my friend." He sighed in relief as the connection went silent. Jix banked to starboard and winced as something behind him groaned loudly.

Even without the blazing neon lights, there would have been no missing Dexter's repair bay; the doors were accented by an abstract design in various lurid colors. Their tracks were mounted on the outside of the building, presumably so the panels could be viewed at any time. As he eased the _Yevan Lady_ through the opening, Jix made sure to glance back and check his clearance.

A droid zipped up to hover in front of the cockpit, waving a pair of glowrods. With its help, he was directed to one corner of the massive bay before he eased the battered freighter onto the duracrete.

"Wren, my boy, _where_ do you get the heaps you buy?" Dex asked as soon as he emerged. Jix shrugged.

"Something must be off with my dealer IFF system." When the Besalisk stopped laughing at him, he grinned. "You'll never believe what I have to tell you. It has to do with some of the customers you used to get at your diner. The _unusual_ ones."

"Really?" Dex asked, the fleshy crest on his head rising with interest. He led Jix away from the _Lady_ and into a small interior office just off the bay. The wall between had been replaced at some point with a single large sheet of transparisteel, allowing anyone in the office to keep an eye on the entire business. "You mean the Jedi I told you about, I'm guessing," his host continued, settling into a large chair with armrests specially designed to accommodate his four arms. In turn, the Corellian threw himself on the one couch present.

"You mentioned Kenobi; What about his—ah, hell, what's the term…"

"His padawan?" the Besalisk replied, leaning forward. "Little Ani Skywalker? 'Course I knew him. Neither of them could cook _anything_, so they were in my place regularly—between assignments, at least."

"Ani?" Jix asked, feeling his eyebrows rise. "That is the _oddest_ nickname…" _'Uncle Ani' sounds __**so**__ much better than 'Uncle A.'_ "Kenobi wasn't the only Jedi to evade His Nibs' hunters. One's been under his nose all along, supposedly tame."

"I'd heard Vader was one before he became th'Emperor's pet, but it couldn't have been him," Dex replied. "Could it?" he continued as the human smirked.

"All it took was finding out that His Nibs lied about his kids dying with their mom."

"But they had some laserbrained rule _against_ that sort of thing, I know!"

"Think about it this way: a human kid _wins_ a pod race when he's nine, when normal humans can't hack it. Ya think he's gonna follow any other rules that don't make any sense to him?" Watching Dex's eyes go as wide as they could was… _interesting_. They looked like they might almost fall out.

"_Ani_ was… Why?" By the time the Corellian had finished explaining, he could see half of the _Lady_'s hull off to one side as droids worked on her, and damp tracks lined Dexter's face. "Lemme talk to some folks I know," the Besalisk insisted. "We'll set ya up with a place, and then work out somethin' to watch His Nibs without riskin' your neck."

Jix tried to protest, pointing out that he had a cargo hold _full_ of credits, but it did him no good. Jettster was determined to make his stay as safe as possible without taking away the perks of being on the capital world.

* * *

Corran was beginning to learn that there were days when it really _sucked_ to be Anakin Skywalker's apprentice. For one thing, the Jedi was _two meters_ tall, give or take a few centimeters—in his bare feet.

He wasn't short himself, by any means—he had some height on Luke, and Corran wasn't through growing yet. Master Anakin _still_ stood a head taller than he did, and he seemed to like messing with people's hair, especially when it came to his son and padawan. The  
Rebel pilot seemed to dislike the gesture almost as much as he did.

For another thing, the Alliance High Command was forever calling his master away, especially when interruptions were most unwelcome. Yesterday, it had been during Corran's lesson on the forms of lightsaber combat. Three hours after the call, Master Anakin had stormed back into their shared quarters, snarling something about politicians under his breath. It had even happened during _meditation_ once, despite all the comm systems in the rooms being disconnected. At least _that_ hadn't happened a second time.

Today, the interruption had come during a session of what Corran called 'mind exercises.' He'd been left with instructions to build the most solid and detailed illusion he could manage, making it as believable as possible. He'd finally chosen a model-sized reproduction of the particular X-wing he had been training with before leaving CorSec.

He was down to the really picky part—adding the micrometeorite scars and carbon scoring that any vessel acquired over its lifetime—before he sensed his master. The door opened a fraction of a second later, and Master Anakin walked in pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I hate politicians." The young man blinked. "They know now not to call unless I'm the only one who can answer their question, and to try and save it until they have several questions to ask at once." As he spoke, the older Jedi noticed the miniature X-wing and sat down to examine it. "Good detail. I'm guessing this is a specific vessel and not an archetype. You're doing well, Corran."

He ducked his head at the compliment. "I wasn't really done yet."

"I mean it, a very good illusion," Master Anakin replied. "How about some work with remotes? I know you've been wanting more saber practice." Eagerness must have been apparent in the Corellian youth's face, because the blond began to chuckle. "Come on, kid."

Corran grinned as he stood. Remotes meant that he would finally be using a real lightsaber. He didn't have one of his own yet; Master Anakin had said that it might be a year before he had the skills needed to build one of the sophisticated weapons.

Just down the corridor from their suite, a small gymnasium had been designated for their use, though others used it from time to time, especially Mara, Luke, and Leia. Inside, the older man unlocked a storage unit against the wall and beckoned his padawan forward. Lightsabers filled the shelves of the cabinet, dozens of them, each with its own distinct design and style.

"Most of these were built before the Empire was declared, some long before. A few are practice sabers that I threw together. I want you to choose one, not based on its looks or the color of its blade, but on the guidance of the Force. Close your eyes and pick up the one that most calls to you."

The student did as he was told, his hand hovering over the top shelf of weapons. He stood there for what seemed an eternity. Some of the sabers were only a dull glimmer to his mind, while others gave off steady glows. None from the highest shelf really captured his attention, nor did any from the second. However, on the third tier, Corran's hand latched onto a cool, smoothed cylinder, his fingers settling comfortably into the curves of the gently undulating grip.

Master Anakin sighed loudly. "I should have expected that, I guess." The Jedi gestured at the case. "All but a handful of these blades were, well, _liberated_ from a closed-off wing of the Galactic Museum on Coruscant. For the last twenty years, they were viewed as trophies by Palpatine, symbols of his eradication of the Order. When Mara Jade left his 'service,' she took anything she could carry from those rooms, to save them from further damage at his hands."

"Then this lightsaber belonged to someone who was famous enough to merit a display in the Museum." Corran's stomach began to flutter nervously. _How could __**I**__ be worthy of a blade like this?_

"It was one of the last Jedi displays added," Master Anakin replied. "The Master who built it was killed perhaps a month or two before the Purge." As he spoke, the older man was rummaging through another cabinet. "There were two other items in the case with that saber: a holo display holding a few images, and a JedCred." When his master paused and straightened, he was holding a display unit, and something else the Corellian couldn't see.

"What is a JedCred, Master?"

"A Jedi Credit was a commemorative coin. It was one of the Corellian Temple traditions; when one of their Knights became a Master, coins would be struck bearing his likeness, and he would give them to family, friends, students, and Masters. The Master, too, would keep one. The JedCred in the Museum likely was his own." Master Anakin opened his hand to reveal a small golden disk. The clear portrait was marred by a pair of deep scars in the metal; someone had gouged out the eyes.

Frowning, Corran pulled at the gold chain around his neck, pulling a similar coin from underneath his shirt. A matching collar had been placed around the JedCred to make it a pendant. "I always thought this was just Dad's luck piece," he mused. "Makes me wonder who gave it to him." After a moment, the youth compared the two coins, drawing a deep breath as the similarities began piling up.

"These—and the lightsaber—are rightfully yours, Corran. Your birthright, so to speak." At his curious glance, Master Anakin elaborated. "These coins were struck nearly forty years ago, in honor of Nejaa Halcyon. Your biological grandfather."

_I wore the credit because it was a way to keep a part of my Dad close. Pop and I should have told you, but… we never felt safe enough._

"You were trying to protect me, Dad," Corran whispered to his father's presence, feeling a brief hug in return. "I understand."

_Whistler has a message in his memory banks that I recorded for you. The encryption code is my Dad's name._ Corran sighed as the presence faded from his mind.

"Here, kid." His master held out a blast helmet, its visor painted the same flat gray as the rest of it. "I'm going to start with one remote. As you become more proficient, I'll add others." When Corran settled the helmet in place, Master Anakin reached out and hit the blast shield, plunging him into darkness.

"How am I supposed to block the darts when I can't see, Master?"

"By tapping into the Force. Valin taught you about spheres of responsibility, and they can help you sense what is _going_ to happen, especially in a combat situation." With a nod of understanding, Corran activated his grandfather's lightsaber and stood at the ready.


	10. Chapter 10

Yeah, Charlie, I know I said last night, but things went wonky. At least it's up now. Thanks, everyone, for being patient with me while I got over a bit of a stumbling block in this chapter. I actually had to scrap part of it and start over. _Someone_ wanted to be very chatty this chapter. I brought one of my favorite EU comedians in from the X-wing series. Those of you who've read the books will know who. More EU characters and some input from Firmus are promised for next chapter! Enjoy!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 10

Watching HoloNet News was becoming somewhat of an entertaining hobby for Jix, especially when the Emperor was making some sort of appearance. The Corellian wasn't spending much time outside the apartment, but it was no hardship. Somehow, Dex's contacts had found a luxurious place for rent, well above the planet's artificial surface. To boot, it was less than a hundred kilometers from the capital district, giving him access to a wide range of amenities and services, including unlimited HoloNet time.

Palpatine had become much more visible since the _Executor_'s appearance and sudden departure a month ago. Without Vader to oversee the military and other public portions of the Imperial machine, the old man was being forced out of his reclusive shell. He was frequently on the HNN, and his public behavior had started a slew of frantic whispers among the throneworld's residents.

From the very first days of the Empire, there had been those who suspected that their illustrious ruler was not right in the head; at first, the numbers had been miniscule. In the last month, the count had jumped exponentially just on Coruscant. Only the most fanatic Imperials still lauded Palpatine as a just man who provided security in the galaxy. Many whispered that something had changed the man.

It was plain to Jix that the Emperor was losing his mind, and if he remained in charge, the galaxy was going to go to the mynocks. Not even the tabloids mentioned anyone becoming close to Palpatine; in fact, the Court had been informally disbanded, as its members were no longer welcome in the Emperor's presence. There were a few military men following the Sith Lord around these days, but the stars above knew that any Navy man promoted above Captain was carefully screened for Force sensitivity, among other things, so none of them could possibly be a potential apprentice for Sidious.

With a sigh, Jix switched off the screen.

* * *

Klaxons wailed as Han raced through the Ord Radama base. _I __**knew**__ it was too good to be true. We stayed here too long, and now we're being bombarded by Imps._ Swinging into Tactical, He quickly spotted Leia and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Time to go, Princess," he said quietly, placing a hand on her arm. She was lucky that she hadn't been in one of the bombed buildings.

"All personnel to transports. Evacuate the base!" The brunette straightened from speaking into the comm board and pinned him with her stare. "Not until everyone else is away, Han. I will _not_ leave anyone behind."

"Have you lost your _mind?_" he asked. "Two-thirds of them were already on the _Ex_ when the Star Destroyers jumped in-system! All that's left is these guys!" He waved at the handful of staff in the room. "Hell, the Rogues launched more than twenty minutes ago. They're running out of firepower while you're trying to empty a base with nobody in it!" Leia turned her glare on the staffers.

"Get to your transports!" The barked order sent them scurrying out the door, and the pirate tugged on her arm again as the senator bent to the control panels again. After a moment, she allowed him to coax her away. "The self-destructs are on a ten-minute timer. Let's go, flyboy."

"Yes, Your Worship," Han replied as he rolled his eyes. He knew that Chewie would be ready to lift the _Falcon_ as soon as they hit her ramp; hopefully they could reach the _Ex_ before the three Deuces forced her to jump into hyperspace. _Mauler, Agonizer_, and _Devastator_ were notorious for having the most brutal Rebel-hunters the Imperial Navy possessed in command.

"Go, Chewie, go!" he yelled as they hit the _Falcon_'s boarding ramp. The ground was receding before he even reached the control panel. The hatch sealed, and Han moved toward the laser turrets. "Let's see how many of those mynocks we can peel off of your dad's ship, huh?"

Without a word, Leia pushed past him and climbed the ladder for the dorsal turret. The grim expression on her face didn't bode well for any Imperial pilots that got between them and the _Lady Excellence_, formerly the _Executor_.

Han had just gotten situated in the ventral turret when he heard the stutter of the upper quad turbolasers. An explosion outside the ship followed shortly, and he blinked. A TIE fighter entered his field of vision, and he squeezed his control yoke in reflex. Green bolts stitched the intervening space to leave a pair of charred holes in the enemy's solar array, but it flew on, probably hoping for another pass on the _Falcon_.

Getting within sight of the _Lady Ex_ took a good ten minutes, since she was a third of the way around the planet. He'd racked up a good ten kills at least, but Leia was far more deadly, having over fifteen to her name. A pair of friendlies showed up on his targeting computer, and he matched them to a pair of TIEs, their solar panels trimmed with an electric blue that couldn't be missed as they screamed by on the trail of an interceptor that had, until now, been nibbling at the _Falcon_'s engines.

Beginning landing approach! Chewie roared. Cease fire!

A sudden flash of light startled Han; a gray ship with a surprisingly fluid and organic form decelerated to a spot just below him. A set of automated laser cannon emerged from the smooth expanse of her upper hull and laced a pair of Imperial TIEs with green. Nanoseconds later, they were merely expanding balls of plasma.

"_Peko-peko_ requesting permission to dock," called a feminine voice over the comm system. For some reason, it sounded familiar, like he should know the speaker.

"_Peko-peko_, come to heading two-one-five mark one-one-three and follow the _Falcon_ in," replied Control. The avian craft executed a neat turn and tucked in right behind them while Chewie grumbled something about babysitting. The Wookiee was obviously not pleased.

With a sigh, Han powered down his laser cannon and climbed back up to the main deck. He offered a hand to Leia when she descended and then pulled her into a hug.

"Good shooting out there, sweetheart," he murmured. The princess' arms tightened briefly in silent thanks. _Thank the Force—she's safe now. We're __**all**_

* * *

Anakin frowned to himself as he and Corran neared Bay Aleph Four, where Luke's Rogue Squadron and the _Millennium Falcon_ were now berthed, as well as the ship that had dropped out of hyperspace and into the middle of that furball. He could sense that both of his children were fine, but the Force was still urging him in their direction.

He halted just inside the blast door to look around. A couple of the Rogues' X-wings were damaged, but there were twelve present; none of those kids had been lost. The _Falcon_ had a couple of new blast scores, and Han and Chewie would undoubtedly want to make some sort of modification that would turn the bay into a chaotic mess for at least a week. The real focus of Anakin's attention, though, was the _Peko-peko_.

The ship's sinuous lines and organic shape gave away her origin, at least to the Jedi; it had been a long time since he'd seen a Nubian cruiser. The matte gray paint seemed out of place and unfinished. Even as he examined her, there was a loud hiss. A section of the lower port-side hull began to descend, and his breath froze in his lungs.

_How…? Is it really __**her**?_ he thought. There was a gentle tug on his sleeve. He turned to find Corran gazing at the woman with wide green eyes.

"That's her, Master, the woman who's bound to you." Anakin nodded and looked again, his heart lodged in his throat.

She stepped off the lift, her dress and cloak swirling around her feet. It was easy for him to follow her gaze as she first looked at the _Falcon_. Han and Chewie were just coming down the ramp, with Leia still out of sight. The group of X-wings and pilots was next, with a bit of a pause to observe the youngsters rehashing the battle with wild gestures. Then dark brown eyes met blue, and time seemed to stand still.

"Anakin?" He couldn't hear her from this distance, but the movement of her lips forming his name was so achingly familiar. One of her hands rose to her heart, then moved to touch a very familiar square of ivory.

"Padmé… My angel." The words barely made it past the lump in his throat. _Is this even possible?_ He remembered too well the HoloNet coverage of her funeral, had felt the loss of their Force-bond. His mind was reeling.

Then she was in motion, striding toward him with a grim expression on her face. The open-handed slap took Anakin completely by surprise, snapping his head to the side.

"Ow." _That's gonna leave a mark._

"_That_ is for Mustafar." He winced at the venom in her words, hanging his head in shame.

"I deserve that, and worse," the Jedi admitted. Then warm lips were on his, Padmé kissing him with a nearly desperate hunger. Despite the years apart, he responded automatically, his arms gathering her slight frame close.

"And that is for returning my husband to me," she breathed as they paused for air. "I _told_ Obi-Wan you were still in there, somewhere."

"It's been so long," Anakin whispered, lost in her scent and the feel of her hair against his face and hands. Without warning, she grabbed his right hand, pulling it away to examine it.

"What is this? What happened to the arm you built?" She shoved his sleeve up to his shoulder, obviously looking for the interface ring, and then glanced up in confusion.

"I'm a new man; more than half of me is technically less than three years old." He could feel her fear. "I almost died on Mustafar, body and soul. As far as anyone cared, Anakin Skywalker _was_ dead. I was told I killed you and our children, and it nearly killed me. Vader took control, little more than a soulless cyborg, until Luke and Leia brought me back."

"They… How long has it been since then, Anakin?" She was trembling now, and he tried to soothe her with his touch. "_How long?_"

"Just over twenty years," he replied, caving to her need for the information. When Padmé burst into quiet tears, he drew her closer. "What's done is done. All we can do is pick up the pieces and mend things as best we can." Not knowing what else to do, he found the link between them and poured out his heart along it.

* * *

She shuddered as the torrent of emotions flowed through her. _How was I out for __**twenty years**__ without knowing it?_ she wondered. _What has happened to my babies without me?_

"You were dead, and I was so _lost_ without you." Anakin's fear and loneliness washed over her.

"Where are they?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. "Where are our twins?"

"Safe," he replied, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "In this bay, even." Padmé found herself drowning in his kiss again, clinging to her Jedi husband with all her strength. She felt a pulse of energy, like a storm surge, as they became familiar with each other again. When it happened again, she sighed and tucked herself under Anakin's chin.

"Dad?" The question, though not directed at her, startled Padmé. She turned just a fraction, one hand clutching at Ani's tunic. The young man who had spoken wore a bright orange flightsuit with a white emergency life-support unit hanging loosely across his chest and a light gray helmet under his arm. More surprising, though, was that _Anakin's_ blue eyes stared out of that face, from under _Anakin's_ hair, but the expression might as well have been her own. She looked up at her husband, silently demanding his explanation.

"I _told_ you, they're safe. That's our son, Angel." The former queen looked again. The pilot bore more than a passing resemblance to Anakin, true. Her mind couldn't find any logical reason to disbelieve, but it was so terribly difficult to remember that two decades were utterly lost to her.

"Luke?" she whispered. The blast helmet fell with a clatter as the young man approached her carefully. She saw him glance up briefly, seeming to question her husband, but then returning that intense gaze to her. Padmé felt dampness in her hair where Anakin was pressing his chin. _Since when does __**my**__ Jedi cry?_ Then the pilot was reaching toward her, his fingers just brushing her cheek.

"Mother? Oh, stars, _Mother_…" He swept her into a hug, and that was all it took to convince her. He hugged just like his father. A choked sob escaped her as she returned the embrace.

"Whoa, princess," she heard Anakin say a few moments later. "Take it easy. Your mother's not going anywhere… At least, I hope not." Curious, she looked around to see who her husband was talking to and saw—_herself?!_ Whoever the young woman was, she could have been one of Padmé's handmaidens, though her garb was as utilitarian as what Padmé had worn when she and Anakin had attempted to rescue Master Kenobi.

"It's me, Mother. Leia." The gently spoken words brought down the barrier holding her tears at bay. _My baby girl, all grown up._ So many questions ran through her mind as she was enveloped by her family.

A discreet cough and the quiet, growling laughter of a Wookiee finally prompted the four Skywalkers to break apart. The furry humanoid looked vaguely familiar, while the human man was new to Padmé. Leia leaned against him comfortably, and the man—a Corellian, if the bloodstripes on his trousers were legitimate—responded by gently clasping her to his chest.

"Eve since she and Han quit dancing around their feelings for each other, Leia has been acting like I did at Varykino," Anakin murmured by way of explanation. Padmé felt her face heat as she remembered that brief idyll. "I hope Luke realizes what he feels for Mara soon, or she'll be furious."

_Some men can be as dense as duracrete._ She stifled the chuckle that rose at the thought and watched her daughter talk to Han. The man's attention was focused only on Leia, though something about him told her that he was connected to his Wookiee friend on a profound level.

"Mother," Leia began after a moment. "This is Captain Han Solo and his honor-brother, Chewbacca. The _Millennium Falcon_ is their ship."

"You fly that _Pecko_…" Solo let the word taper off, apparently knowing that he was pronouncing it wrong. "I've never seen a ship like that before; it looks kinda like a bird."

"She was built on Naboo, my homeworld. The shape is that of a peko-peko, a Naboo reptavian that can be tamed and used to hunt small game." When the Corellian nodded his understanding, Padmé continued. "I liberated her from someone who apparently had no appreciation for aesthetics. When I get the opportunity to paint her, it will be in the natural colors of the peko-peko. Her builders would likely approve."

"Liberated, my love?" Anakin asked with a grin. "What kind of trouble have you been getting into?"

"You're the one who's always at the center of the mess, husband mine. Besides, I'm much better for her than someone who _refits_ the interior with _duraplast_. All her beautiful lines were covered up. The shipwrights would have gone into fits." The Jedi's raised eyebrow informed her that he would like more detail later.

"And it was just you in her, out there?" Solo asked.

"She was designed to be flown by one person when necessary. The laser cannons have a dedicated droid brain operating them." He looked impressed. Anakin's arm around her tightened briefly as she was turned toward the blast door. Gigantic panels began to slide along the bay's magcon field behind her, but not before Padmé saw green lasers vape a TIE fighter that was rushing toward the opening.

"Have you seen a doctor or a med droid?" her husband asked solicitously as the bay was left behind.

"Of course not. I didn't know of any I could trust. I didn't know _who_ to trust."

"Let me arrange for you to be checked, then," he urged. "I just got you back; I couldn't bear losing you to some silly health issue _now_." When she acquiesced with a sigh, Anakin lifted a comlink. "Bay Delta, prepare for a full scan of one human female, priority Aleph. No visible injuries, just a check to be on the safe side." Padmé could just barely hear the confirmation.

"You worry too much," she informed the Jedi. Then she noticed a dark-haired youngster deep in conversation with Luke at the tail end of the group. His clothes looked vaguely familiar in cut. "Who is he, Anakin? The youngling." He glanced back, then nodded to himself.

"That's Corran, my padawan. Not that I'm neglecting Mara and our two, but he is solely my responsibility." He glanced down at her. "I'm supposed to play a very large part in reestablishing the Order. All of the children will learn from me at some point."

"You'll do a wonderful job," she assured him, knowing from his tone that he had doubts.

* * *

Over an hour later, Padmé was glaring at Anakin. He _knew_ how she hated being poked and prodded, whether it was by a med droid or a living being. That was one of the reasons she hadn't know that the twins were, well, _twins_.

"To all intents and purposes, milady, you are in exceptional health for a dead woman." At least Dr. Phanan was funny, even if his humor tended to the morbid. "In fact, you're not even forty-eight, not physiologically." Startled, she glanced at her husband to find him mirroring her shock. "All scans are consistent with a healthy human female in her late thirties to early forties. Including, _ahem_, a fully functional reproductive system. No offense, sir!" The young doctor held up his hands when Anakin glowered at him.

"Thank you, Dr. Phanan. May we go now?" Padmé asked with extra sweetening as she glared right back at the Jedi.

"Of- of course. Though, if anything starts to bother you, _do_ come back right away, Madam Skywalker. It would be best to keep an eye on the situation." She slipped from the scanning bed to stalk over and smack her husband's crossed arms.

"Apologize to the poor boy. You shouldn't terrorize medical staff; they can be terribly sneaky when they decide on revenge," she hissed at the tall man _sotto voce_.

"Appreciate it," Anakin told the doctor curtly before turning for the door. Throwing a 'what can you do?' glance over her shoulder, she hurried to keep up.

She'd been given a bit of an impromptu tour on the way to the medbay—one of apparently many on this colossal ship—and therefore knew that Anakin Called this area the 'family sector.' Why was something she had yet to find out. Just a bit upset a t his gruff behavior, she grabbed his arm and pulled with all her strength. He swung to face her.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she asked. "You're behaving like the wrong end of a gualama." For some reason, that brought a hint of pink to his cheeks.

"The Living Force brought you back, I'm sure of it. But _why_ didn't it keep you alive in the first place?!" The angry words surprised her.

"It _doesn't matter_. At least I'm alive _now_. Stop playing with 'what if?' and 'why didn't?' You know how much trouble that caused _last _time." Anakin became very contrite as she brought that up. All the tension drained from his frame.

"You're right," he admitted after a minute. Then he hesitated, looking around. "I think I told you earlier that this is the family sector; we're in the uppermost corridor. Luke, Leia, Han, Chewbacca… their rooms are all on this level, as are mine."

"Show me?" she asked quietly. "Your quarters, I mean. Where I will be living with you." Anakin's entire face flushed. Padmé smirked at her success and took the opportunity to slip her hand into his.

"Um, right…" Once over his shock, the Jedi began to stroll along the passageway very slowly. "All of this has been refitted since we defected three months ago. Instead of individual cabins opening directly onto the hall, it's now groups of rooms, each cluster centered on a shared living area that lets out here. Over ten thousand beings joined us when we stopped in the Corellian Sector, most of them the families of Jedi who were killed in the war and the Purges directly after. They're all housed in this sort of arrangement. Rostek Horn, Corran's adoptive grandfather, hid them twenty years ago, and helped me bring them together again after I'd broken all ties to Palpatine."

"He sounds like a brave man," she commented, and her husband nodded.

"He adopted Corran's father after Nejaa was killed, knowing that Valin and others like him were being hunted by the Empire." He stopped at t wide door and palmed the control, causing it to open smoothly. She was wide-eyed as he ushered her inside.

The large room was well-lit, with a food prep station in one of the far corners and a table and seating in the other. The near half of the space was dominated by a huge, curving gray couch—ample room for at least seven adult humans. A holochess table sat off to the side, displaying a partial set of dejarik pieces. It looked like the players had gotten up in the middle of their game. On a blank section of wall was projected a stunning view of a city Padmé recognized as Aldera on Alderaan.

"That's Leia's," Anakin said, gazing at the picture. "Bail raised her, and now all she has to remember those years are her holos." She must have looked as confused as she felt. "Alderaan was obliterated by Palpatine's toy superweapon, on the command of Wilhuff Tarkin. Leia was forced to watch it happen. She gets quiet at times, and that's when I'm most worried for her." The blond sighed heavily.

"You need my help with them both," she guessed, and he nodded. "We'll make it, Ani, together."

'Together' had to be the best word in the galaxy.


	11. Chapter 11

Yay! I finished another chapter! I bring in several more EU characters this chapter, so I hope everyone enjoys that. Mind you, we are currently about half a year before the time of _The Empire Strikes Back_, so things will speed up in a couple chapters. I know some of you are champing at the bit to see just how demented Palpatine is getting. I'll get to it, I promise! Frothing at the mouth and everything! I promise bad guys next chapter, though. And, yes, Han does still have that bounty hanging over his hands evilly You shall all see before too much longer...

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 11

Firmus sighed as he stepped out of the 'fresher, glad to be clean after the harrowing simulator runs he'd put himself through. With the variety of sim modules now available aboard the _Lady Ex_—not to mention the staggering number of missions—he was experimenting. He made notes whenever he did, marking what he liked about the particular craft, as well as what he disliked. The blond Admiral was hoping that he might eventually run into someone who could help him design an optimized fighter from his observations.

A loud but short tone from his datapad startled him. He picked it up, surprised to see 'Incoming Transmission' flashing on the display. Before he could think who might be calling him, a video feed turned on to show a face he'd never thought to see again.

"Stars above, Piett, but I am glad to see you are alive." Black hair, blue skin, and red eyes in an Imperial uniform meant just one person: Mitth'raw'nuruodo, a Chiss who had been his roommate at Academy because only Firmus was willing to share with a nonhuman. "I was hoping you were not lost with the _Executor_."

"That depends on what you mean by 'lost,' Thrawn."

"She had been reported as destroyed," the man replied, a trace of confusion entering his voice. "I just received the information from Imperial Center. And—why are you not wearing Imperial uniform?" A grin spread across his face as the alien's eyes narrowed.

"Hm. It sounds like I'm officially commanding a ghost ship, then. I wonder if the Council would approve of dropping in an a few well-populated systems unannounced."

"You did _not_," Thrawn accused. Piett smirked. "And Vader did nothing?"

"On the contrary. He led the whole thing, though he doesn't answer to that name anymore. _Or_ look like that, either." His friend's face as this news sent Firmus into peals of laughter. He vaguely noticed blue fingers moving on the other end, and then Thrawn leaned forward.

"What the _hell_ happened, Firmus?"

"You've seen how most humans are about their offspring? Turns out, he'd been told that he'd killed his pregnant wife. Then he sends me to find out who vaped the _Death Star_, and it's his kid, that _someone_ told him was never born."

"Sithspit. I would have been angry, as well." Thrawn looked thoughtful, and then touched something off-screen. "You can reach me here. If I am correctly interpreting your feeble attempt at code, then there is much you need to know. There is trouble brewing tin the Unknown Regions." Firmus sobered. If the _Chiss_ considered it trouble, then it could be a disaster in the making.

"Thank you, my friend. I look forward to our next opportunity to speak." He made a mental note to get Anakin's story recorded so he wouldn't have to tell it all over again whenever someone asked.

"Until then, Piett." The screen went blank. Heaving a sigh, Firmus left his rooms, datapad in hand, to find his Jedi friend.

* * *

The Bothan ducked into a cantina as she spotted an Imperial Patrol headed in her direction. The stormies were cracking down on nonhumans caught more than thirty meters from Invisec without a work permit, and here she was over a kilometer away on her own business. More importantly, Asyr carried fifteen datachips, all filled with information on Imperial military personnel.

When the white-armored soldiers were again out of sight, Sei'lar emerged and resumed her loping gait. The human she was looking for was renting a lush's apartment near the capital district, and getting there on foot could take as much as two days. That meant more risk of getting stopped by a patrol, more chances that the Imperials could imprison her for having more datachips on her than any three aliens were allowed.

She wondered why the human wanted the data she'd collected. Her source had said that he was paying five thousand credits for each datachip. She knew the Rebel Alliance didn't have that kind of capital, not when the requested information was things like who was pro-alien, insubordination reports, and other similar data. That was half the reason she was making the delivery herself.

"Gentlelady, could I offer you a lift?" The soft voice startled her, and Asyr felt the fur rise on the back of her neck. A slim human woman stepped from the shadows to her left. _How did I miss her?_ Long hair was caught in a thick white braid that draped over her shoulder.

"I can see you're on some sort of errand," she continued. "Please, allow me to help. I won't say anything to the authorities, anyway."

"You would willingly violate the anti-alien policies?" The woman nodded. "Then… I accept." It wasn't much of a choice: days on foot dodging the Imps, or a couple of hours in an airspeeder. Asyr padded after the human as she stepped back into the shadows.

Within moments, the narrow, dark alley became a cul-de-sac that rose tens of stories up into the city. There was some sort of bright light at the top, but it was far enough away that the bottom of the shaft was only half-lit. Parked in the center of the duracrete slab was a teardrop-shaped airspeeder. Two prongs in the front and its enclosed cabin made it look vaguely insectoid. Its battered paint job told a story of long and hazardous use.

"Where shall I head?" the human asked as Asyr climbed into the small speeder.

"500 Republica," she replied, running a hand over her head to smooth her black fur. Now that she wasn't worrying whether she'd get there in one piece, the prestige of the neighborhood was making her nervous.

"Those used to be Senatorial apartments, during the Republic," the human commented as the speeder rose toward a dark spot in the wall

"And now they're mostly Grand Moffs' mistresses. But I'm not going there because of that. I have a buyer for some information." _**Why**__ am I telling her what I'm doing?_ a part of her mind screamed.

"Ah, the Corellian, then. Force only knows why he's here or why he's gathering the particular data he's requested." Asyr's violet eyes blinked.

"You know who I'm seeing."

"Not really. I know _of_ him. He's not using his own name. Still, I suspect that he has ties to the Alliance, though I don't know how." Then the woman—an Alderaanian, if her almost unnoticeable accent was any guide—looked over. "I'm Winter."

"Asyr."

Silence reigned until the gleaming tower of 500 Republica came into view. Avoiding the main bay of the complex, Winter circled around to a much smaller opening.

"This is a service entrance," she explained. "You know to keep out of sight. If anyone _does_ see you, just tell than that you're here on a resident's request. That should be enough for anyone but the Imps, and there are very few patrols around here. I'll be waiting here for your return." The little craft settled into a marked spot, hovering just above the duracrete as Asyr slipped out.

"My thanks, Winter." As she darted into a cramped turbolift, the Bothan considered ways to return the human's kindness. Perhaps getting some information out of the Corellian would work. The corners of her lips turning up into a predatory grin, Asyr began to plan.

* * *

Jix jumped when the door chimed, then recalled his request for information. A glance at the security monitor reassured him that the Imperials hadn't caught on to his presence. Once he opened the door and let her in, Jix openly watched as she moved to sit near the room's data terminal. She was quite beautiful, with all that glossy black fur, the white diamond over one eye, and the patch of white just visible disappearing under her collar. By themselves, her violet eyes were stunning.

"I've collected information that you may be interested in," she said when he raised an eyebrow. She raised one hand, placed it on the table, and lifted it to reveal a small heap of datachips. The Corellian couldn't help but whistle in amazement.

He dropped into the other seat and drew a reader from its dock by the terminal, then inserted a chip. It took a moment to scan through the contents, and then he repeated the process with another chip. By the time he'd checked them all—fifteen chips with the information somehow packed at double the standard density—the Bothan female was smirking with satisfaction.

"Since it's all double-packed, I'm willing to offer a hundred fifty for the lot." With that much money, she could well afford to purchase her own ship, if she liked.

"I'll take one twenty-five and the answers to ten questions of my choosing." The counteroffer was interesting. Still, an exchange of information was an older bargain than the idea of money itself. He began drawing coins from the heavy pouch at his waist.

"Done. Your first question?"

"You're obviously against the New Order, not that I blame you. What ties do you have to the Rebels?"

_Well, __**that**__ came out of the Unknown Regions._ "Fair warning, you won't believe me if I tell you." The Bothan glared. "Okay… My boss is the dad of the two most wanted Rebels—they each thought they were the last of their families until about two years ago." He saw the fur on her shoulders ripple and held up his hands. "I _said_ you wouldn't believe me, but it's the truth!"

"Fine, then. What is your boss' name?" she spat. Jix flinched.

"I'll say it again; you're not going to believe me. Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker." She sat back, a stunned expression flitting across her face.

"Why this particular information?" the Bothan asked after a few minutes.

"Because Uncle Ani can use it to figure out who can be swayed to the Rebels' side." He frowned. "How do I know you won't turn around and sell me out to the Imps?"

"Because they'd like my head on a Force-pike, if they could connect me to things I've done to their systems in the past." Well, that made sense. "Where did you get the credits to float this venture? The flat, paying for information, and whatever else you've been doing?"

"Firmus is a good slicer. Fixed up a few accounts, transferred money in, and then I went and cashed them out. For a former Imperial captain, he's got some pretty interesting skills, Piett does."

The Bothan sat in silence for a while, scratching the side of her nose in a thinking gesture. Then she pierced him with her violet gaze again.

"Captain Piett was, I believe, last assigned to the _Executor_, which was reported destroyed with the loss of all hands aboard. How did he survive?"

_Kreth. Does she have a holographic memory or something?_ "He survived because the _Executor_ wasn't destroyed, sister. He and Uncle Ani led the mutiny. It's a long story, and I doubt you have the time for it."

"Then I will collect the other five questions at a later date." She made to stand, but Jix leaned forward.

"Sweetheart, I passed Sate Pestage the day before yesterday. Any time now, he'll realize it was _me_, and then he'll send troops to arrest me. I'll be gone within the week." Running into the Grand Vizier had nearly given him a heart attack, and every day that passed ratcheted his tension that much higher.

"I'll trade three of my questions to be able to leave with you."

"You go a comlink?" She silently drew one from a pocket and passed it over. Frowning, the Corellian made a mental note of the frequency. "I'll give you a shout when I'm ready to go, and we'll meet at Dex's Speeder and Ship Repairs."

"I know where it is," the Bothan replied. "I will take my leave now and await your call." She stood and walked toward the door.

"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked with a little frustration. Jix was _not_ looking forward to having a passenger on the _Lady_, repaired or not.

"You will learn it only when we are off-planet." With that, she stalked away, the door opening automatically at her approach. He waited until the last flicker of black fur left the security screen, and then activated the apartment's highest privacy setting.

* * *

Luke couldn't help but smile as he watched Aunt Sola and Grandma Jobal hug his mother. The looks on all their faces were well worth the tongue-lashing he knew he'd get later.

_Good timing, Dad,_ he thought. While the older Jedi had been occupying Mother in his—well, theirs, now—room, the twins had convinced the Naberrie clan to come next door to the Skywalker quarters, quietly. Not thirty seconds after they'd gotten everyone into the common area, Anakin's door had slid open and Mother stepped out. Several voices had shouted her name in unison, and then she'd been swamped by Grandma and Aunt Sola.

"Is that your mom? She looks like Leia, only prettier." The voice at his elbow startled Luke for a moment until he realized it was only Alain. He ruffled the boy's hair.

"Yeah, kiddo. She is." For a moment, he watched the three women, and then he turned to his young cousin again. "_You_ need to stop sneaking up on me." The pilot bent to tickle him. "You're getting way too good at masking your Force-signature."

"No, no… _Luuuke!_" Alain burst into laughter as he tried to escape the onslaught. Grinning, Luke kept up, and then swung his cousin under one arm as he straightened. The seven-year-old—he'd be eight in a little more than a month—shrieked, one hand catching in Luke's tunic. "Put me down!" Within moments, the loud demands drew attention of the rest of the family as Alain struggled for freedom.

Laughter erupted all around the room, and Luke looked up to find his mother beaming at him as she joined in. Suddenly, Alain slipped from his grip and fell. He didn't hit the floor, though; there was a round of gasps, and then the boy was floating a centimeter or so above the deckplates, unhurt.

"Boys…" Luke winced, turning to look at his father. "Save the roughhousing for the gymnasium."

"Yes, Dad."

"Yes, Uncle Anakin." He reached down, helping the kid to his feet.

"And since you have so much energy, I suggest you go work on your forms for an hour. I'll be by to check on you." At this, Luke groaned. Formwork was so _boring_! "Luke…"

"Yes, sir," he said reluctantly, turning to leave. Forms were usually his punishment when he broke one of the few minor rules or did something recklessly. Leia always got meditation time for similar offenses. It made an odd sort of sense; his sister hated to sit still, and he enjoyed mental exercise quite a bit more than the physical.

This blew bantha bits.

* * *

Pooja had to smother a giggle as her cousin and nephew left the room. She'd watched Alain sneak up on Luke; if she hadn't she wouldn't have known that anything had happened before their play-fight.

Though her nephew was far and away the best at it, everyone in the family with any sensitivity could effectively hide their Force-signature. Except for Anakin, who couldn't hide in a _blizzard_. Her theory was that the talent came from the Thules, her grandmother's family. There were no records of Jedi in the family before, but to Pooja, that only meant that no Jedi had _found_ a Thule who hadn't been shielding. With no reason to suspect talent, the Jedi wouldn't have run one of their special blood tests.

Even Tria and little Ruwee were hiding their distinctive presences on a regular basis now. And Aunt Padmé—well, she was sure that she'd felt _something_ there when she was little, and now the Force was nagging Pooja to keep her senses extended in that direction.

"Uncle," she began, standing next to the tall Jedi. "You know how well Alain hides himself. He snuck up on Luke, just to see him jump." He looked down at her, one brow arching.

"Alain knows better."

"Yes, but he still does it." She followed her uncle's gaze to find that it was locked on Aunt Padmé. _He practically worships the ground she walks on. How did Mom miss that when they went to Varykino?_ There was a sudden pulsing in the Force, not originating with any of the Jedi present, and Aunt Padmé lit up like the Coruscant night. Pooja couldn't help but gasp at the strength and power she saw in that brief flare.

"Please tell me I didn't just imagine that," Uncle Anakin muttered, placing one hand on her shoulder. She could feel him shaking.

"I saw it, too," she replied. "It looks like she got a full dose of the family talents, and no one ever knew." In fact, she wondered if her aunt had even known about her Force abilities. Surely she would have sought a way to control them, if she had.

"I can't believe how you've grown, Pooja. Sola tells me you were the senator for our sector for a few years." She barely kept herself from jumping when Padmé seemed to appear at her shoulder.

_**Just**__ like Alain, creeping up on me,_ she thought wryly. "Yes. I met Leia when she became Alderaan's senator. She was the youngest ever, you know." For a while, they spoke, until Aunt Padmé wandered over to talk to Grandfather. Then Pooja turned back to stare at her uncle.

"What?" he asked, and she smirked.

"Aren't you going to have the medbay test her blood for those midi-whatsits?" The tall Jedi blanched, and then muttered something under his breath before grabbing his comlink.

Apparently, _someone_ was having a very long day.

* * *

Mara had been working in the gymnasium for at least two hours when Luke and Alain appeared. She'd been co-pilot on the _Rebel Dawn_ earlier, evacuating personnel from the base just prior to the bombardment. Not only had she not glimpsed a single Rogue near the _Dawn_, she'd tried to find him after the _Lady Ex_ jumped to hyperspace, and Wedge had informed her that Luke had gone off with his father.

_Does that laserbrain not __**sense**__ the bond that's forming between us?_ Apparently not, if his behavior was anything to go by. Master Skywalker had warned her that his son was a bit dense when it came to women, but this took the _ryshcate_. So instead of nodding at the pair, she snarled in Luke's general direction and redoubled her attack on the training remotes.

"What the hell was _that_ for?!"

"You'd know if you weren't such a blind, stupid nerf-herder!" she yelled back, releasing some of her anger.

"Why don't you two just kiss already?" Alain piped up. Mara nearly dropped her 'saber in shock. "You're worse than Han and Leia were." Then Luke's reaction washed over her, and she _did_ drop her weapon. Three stinging light-darts hit her in rapid succession, causing her to yelp.

"What?!" Their simultaneous exclamations made the seven-year-old blink.

"Well, you _are_," he blurted. Then he darted to the equipment locker, grabbed a child-sized practice blade, and moved into the beginning stance for the first form.

For a very long moment, she and Luke just stared at each other. His face grew red; she could only glare. Furious with his apparent lack of words, Mara turned, summoned her lightsaber with the Force, and stalked out of the room.

_A swim sounds like a __**really **__good idea right about now._


	12. Chapter 12

Ok, finally this is up after a few fits and starts and some procrastination in the typing. I hate typing. Anyway, just a couple of notes: as far as the man in the scene with Jabba, think Tom Felton with a tan (he plays Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies, as well as other roles, and D--N is he HOT!); later on, when Anakin talks about making lightsabers, he means their very own ones. They've been using thrown together or inherited blades to this point, though Mara had one before she defected. She got rid of that one because it was so connected to Palpatine. As always, technical details and cultural minutiae come from the wonderful Wookieepedia, which has proven itself as a Star Wars nerd's treasure trove time and again. Please review, especially if you're putting me on Author Alert! I love to hear what people think of my work, and it stimulates the creative process immensely. As always, read and enjoy!

The Hero Strikes Back

Chapter 12

"Mother keeps asking when we're getting married." Leia's voice stopped her father in his tracks. He could sense her presence just around the corner, with Han close by. Alerted by the desperate note in his daughter's voice, Anakin listened intently.

"I'm sorry Princess. There's no way I'll let Jabba drag you into my problems. You have enough to worry about as it is." The smuggler sounded resigned. "He'd do anything to get me now; nothing I could do would get him to rescind that bounty. The shipment I had to drop was just too damned expensive."

The Jedi Master's mind raced. He knew how Solo felt about slavery—much the same as Anakin himself did, in fact—and the only other cargo that could possibly fit into the _Falcon_ and still have prohibitively high costs was spice or glitterstim. Knowing the Hutts, Solo's debt probably rose daily due to interest.

He had an idea.

* * *

Puffing leisurely on his hookah, Jabba lounged in his throne room. His snack-quarium was full, his band was playing soothing music… Life was good. Solo was on the run, with several bounty hunters hot on his heels; he'd be brought in any day now, since Fett had joined the chase. 

"Excellency," Bib Fortuna whispered in rough-edged Huttese, coming close to stand at the crimelord's shoulder. "There is a human at the gates, wishing to petition Your Magnificence."

"I will hear this puny human. Go." Within moments, the pasty Twi'lek brought in a man dressed in native garb, his tanned skin and light-colored hair making a startling contrast in the dark room.

"Greetings, Mighty One," he said in Basic with a bow. "My employer wishes to bargain with you for the debt of Han Solo." The name set the courtiers to whispering among themselves, and the Hutt sat more upright.

"Solo is mine and mine alone! How dare you suggest that his debt to me could be bought?"

"Forgive me, Excellency, but my employer thought you might react that way. I have been authorized to offer two hundred fifty thousand credits, if you will release Solo from all obligations to you and lift the price from his head." The human was showing no reaction to Jabba's violent outburst.

"Why should I grant this ridiculous boon?" the crime lord asked after a moment. _The boy is bold._

"Because if you do not, Exalted One, my employer has sworn to destroy you and the entire Desilijic clan, down to the last Huttlet and t'landa Til."

"_**WHAT?!**_" Jabba's roar was almost lost in the confusion that followed the statement. "Who dares to make such a threat?" The human was smirking, and the Hutt wished that he had stood just a meter closer to the dais. His pet rancor was always hungry.

"The Jedi are returning, Jabba, and the Son of the Suns is leading the van. You have two days to contact me with your decision; not responding will be interpreted as refusal." The man threw a tiny object—probably a comlink—at Fortuna, then turned with military precision and strode out of the audience chamber without waiting for dismissal.

The Hutt fumed. What could he do? Either he gave up his revenge on the pirate, perhaps giving others the impression that he could be bought off, or— He shuddered. Complete and utter destruction was not a pleasant—or even acceptable—alternative.

* * *

Jix grouched to himself as he started the _Yevan Lady_'s warm-up sequence. Now he had some blasted Rebel operative wanting a message capsule delivered to the Princess, on top of his Bothan passenger. He'd almost walked into Moff Flirry Vorru today, and that had been the last _vweilu_ nut. He wasn't staying on Coruscant another day. 

"Permission to board?" Hearing the call, he checked the security holocam at the hatch. It was the Bothan, dressed in a dark flightsuit and carrying a lumpy duffel.

"Get in and strap in, sister. I'm liftin' ship in five minutes." He turned back to the nav console to try and coax jump coordinates out of the old system.

"Need a copilot?" The Bothan's voice nearly in his ear about made him jump out of his skin. He swore loudly and turned to glare at her.

"Sneak up on me again, and you'll be _walkin'_ the rest of the way, sweetheart." She held up her hands in surrender, then leaned against the bulkhead, obviously waiting for an answer to her question. "_Lady_ **is** a bit difficult with just one pilot, so if you know what you're doing, then yes," Jix admitted grudgingly. The navicomp burped, calculations finished, and he dropped into the pilot's seat to engage the repulsorlifts. It took only a second to turn on the false transponder.

"Let's get out of here before Pestage or Vorru send troops after me." When the ship cleared Dex's hangar, he glanced at the female. "I'm Jix. And you are…?"

"Asyr. I gather that we'll be meeting the Rebels somewhere."

"We'll jump out of the system, and then I'll send out a coded message that the boss should get pretty quickly. Then he'll send one back with our rendezvous point. Fairly simple." Then he reconsidered his statement and frowned. "Of course, there's a significant possibility that he'll be waiting on the other end of our jump. Force-users do that, I guess." After all, it had happened before, when it was still Darth Vader that he worked for. "Whatever you do, _don't talk_ until I've gotten us cleared by Control, got it?" The Bothan—Asyr—nodded calmly as the _Lady_ rose through the skyscrapers.

Maybe she wouldn't be as much of a bother as he'd thought.

* * *

Firmus gazed out the viewport at the uninhabited system as various beings busied themselves around the bridge. Why Anakin had requested that they stop here was beyond him, but it had offered the Admiral the opportunity to send off the message and information he'd recorded for Thrawn. The Jedi Master had helped, putting in his two credits, as well as making a formal request for an alliance with the Chiss. 

A flare of light to starboard caught Piett's attention, and he watched as a small craft slowed to sub-light speed some five kilometers out from their position. He turned toward the helmsman only to find the Zabrak turning in his direction.

"Corellian light freighter, sir, apparently of the YZ class. Its transponder is scrambled." Firmus nodded, then looked at Communications.

"Hail them and request their iden—"

"Hey, _Lady Ex_, am I glad to see you!" He covered his face with one hand, recognizing the voice. He leaned over a clone's shoulder to palm the pickup activator.

"Jix, get that piece of junk on board before I feel the need to rid the galaxy of its ugliness." Firmus disliked CEC freighters, the YZ series most of all. Trust Jix to buy one of the heaps with the credits he'd sliced. "Put him in the main bay. I'm going to get Master Skywalker."

It wasn't hard for him to find the Jedi Master; there was a class of younglings in the gymnasium that had been equipped for lightsaber sparring, each of them watching  
Anakin intently as he demonstrated a move with his sapphire blade.

"Now, practice that, and Master Yoda will be here in a moment." Then he walked over to stand beside Piett. "What is it, my friend?"

"Jixton is back. I thought you might like to debrief him yourself." Anakin grinned, and Firmus couldn't help but smile back. _Having Madam Skywalker around has made a huge improvement in his overall mood. I'm glad she's here._ They stood there for a few minutes, watching the children, before the wizened Master Yoda appeared, leaning on his gnarled little stick. Then they left, heading straight for the main hangar bay.

Surprisingly, the ugly freighter seemed to be in prime mechanical condition, as evidenced by its smooth landing on the bay's main deck. Its outward looks, though… Firmus shuddered. The designers at CEC had no sense of aesthetics, to his mind. The ramp lowered then, and Jixton appeared at its top, grinning madly.

"Firmus! Uncle Ani! Good to see you again!" The Axxilan couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Who's your passenger?" There was a slightly grouchy note in Anakin's voice now, and he wasn't at all surprised. The Corellian wasn't supposed to bring anyone back with him.

"Um, well, that would be Asyr…" Jix held up his hands , his brown eyes wide. "I didn't want to take her, but apparently she's running from His Nibs, too. She's fiddled with their computers a bit, she says." Then said passenger appeared at the head of the ramp.

_Now why does she look familiar?_ Firmus asked himself. Surely he would remember meeting someone with such an exotic beauty to her. Maybe she'd been in a bulletin or something? The Imperial Navy did send out a list to all its officers whenever the Bothan Space Defense Force graduated a new class.

"Welcome, Miss…" Anakin began to greet her, but paused.

"Sei'lar, sir. Who might you be?"

"Anakin Skywalker. Jix, you and I are going to have a serious talk. _Now._" He turned, and Jix stumbled forward, something invisible obviously hooked to his vest and pulling.

"If you'll follow me, Miss Sei'lar, we can see about arranging some quarters for you and figuring out where you'll be of the most help." Firmus turned in the direction his friend had gone and set an easy pace. The Bothan woman moved to walk beside him. "Depending on where you're put, you may not see me much, so I'll see about introducing you to other officers in your specialty."

"Might I ask who you are, then?" she inquired, violet eyes flitting across his face. He grinned.

"Admiral Firmus Piett, official commander of the _Lady Excellence_." Sei'lar gave a knowing nod, and he wondered why.

By the time they arrived at the quartermaster offices, he still hadn't figured her out.

* * *

Luke huffed to himself, stepping into the first movements of the Ataru form. Even though it had been a week and a half, Alain's words still tumbled through his mind. He'd been thinking about Mara; she wasn't just another Rebel, or just another Jedi trainee. The redhead was different to him, and always had been. 

He groaned, realizing that he'd fumbled the eighth move, and thumbed the activator on his lightsaber. The gymnasium went dark without the light from the pale blue blade. With a sigh, Luke sat on the floor mats and slipped into meditation.

_I really care about Mara,_ he slowly acknowledged. _I care more for her than for anyone else outside my family._ He sought the link between them, trying to understand it. He could almost hear his father's voice echoing in his head.

'_I couldn't forget her, once we'd met,'_ he'd said, speaking of Luke's mother. _'Even though I didn't see her for ten years, I thought about her every day. She was in my blood.'_ All things considered, that was how he felt toward Mara.

He stood, clipping the lightsaber to his belt, where he'd worn it every day since Old Ben gave it to him, and left the gymnasium. He could feel her through their link and knew that she was swimming again.

_Does she think that so much water is going to deter me? I've gotten used to it since I left Tatooine._ As usual, he found the former Hand making laps of the pool, her hair gathered tightly at the base of her skull and streaming down her spine. Luke sat near the edge, pulling his knees up to his chest as he watched her sleek form knife through the water.

_-What do you want?-_ Her thought echoed in his head with a harsh edge. She had a right to be angry at him.

"I'm sorry," he replied, both aloud and through the Force. "I'm an idiot, I know. I should have realized how I felt a long time ago. Just… don't be mad anymore, please?" Mara turned over to stare at him, drifting to a stop. The pilot could feel her poking at his mind.

"You really mean it, don't you?" she asked; he nodded mutely. A wry grin graced her features as she waded toward him. "You're an idiot, Farmboy."

"I know," he opined. Then she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down to her eye level. He forgot about how wet he was getting when their lips crashed together.

_-But you're __**my**__ idiot,-_ came her thought. Luke smiled to himself as the kiss deepened. Mara's green eyes were dancing when they parted for air. Wordlessly, she pulled herself out of the water and summoned a towel from the other side of the room.

"Let's take this somewhere a little less… public, hmm?" With a grin, he interlaced their fingers and led her away.

* * *

Three days later, the twins and Mara had gathered in the Skywalkers' common room at Anakin's request. When the shades of Master Jinn and Master Kenobi appeared, the living Jedi Master stopped pacing and grinned. 

"You have all made impressive progress since you began training, especially since you have been working together. However, you've reached the point where repeating exercises and learning from your elders is insufficient to your needs. From now on, what knowledge you seek is that which you must learn for yourself, the things for which no amount of advice can prepare you. It is time for you to build your own lightsabers and take on the mantle of Jedi Knights." He had to stifle the urge to chuckle as they glanced at each other.

"I think I read something about a special cave somewhere that focusing crystals are supposed to come from. Will we be going there?" Jade asked. Anakin shook his head sadly.

"The Crystal Caves of Ilum were destroyed years ago at Palpatine's order. No, a collection of gemstones has been accumulated for you to choose from, and I plan for it to keep growing, that the other students may have access to it when their time comes."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Leia stood and headed for the door before realizing that she didn't know where to go. "I'd like to get started, Daddy"

He chuckled.

* * *

Thrawn leaned forward, stroking his chin in thought as he read through Piett's message for the third time. He'd watched the holovid portion five times already, and it had piqued his curiosity. If the Emperor had lied to _Vader_ for twenty years, then he could have easily lied about the advantages he'd offered to the Chiss in exchange for their loyalty. The thought was disturbing, to say the least. 

_Have I chained my people to a madman?_ He'd begun receiving datapackets from Imperial Center lately, all of then filled with clips from HoloNet News. Each segment featured His Imperial Majesty displaying increasingly erratic behavior. These actions, caught on camera and presumably spreading across the galaxy, were most unsettling.

Worse yet, Thrawn's last report had been sent to Imperial Center almost a month ago, and he had yet to receive even an acknowledgement of receipt. The Far Outsiders that worried him so much were getting closer, and what little his scouts had been able to observe was not encouraging. It looked like their fleet was bent on a full-scale invasion and takeover of the galaxy.

With a sigh, he separated the formal portion of Firmus' message and transferred a copy to a datachip. The Council of Families would want to see this, once he told them about Emperor Palpatine. True, this would likely result in public shame for him, but the welfare of his people was far more important than his ego.

* * *

Suspended in a light meditative trance, Leia sifted gemstones through her fingers, trying to find the one that she _knew_ was meant to be the focus for her new lightsaber. She'd been going through the collection of jewels for at least half an hour without even a flicker of the sense that she'd found the stone she could see in her mind. 

Luke had found his almost immediately, a dark green emerald about three centimeters across. Ten minutes later, Mara had made off with a similar-sized yellow-green gem. The princess had a clear image of her focus crystal; it was a larger stone, with a rich blue-violet hue and shimmering facets. But where was it?

With a huff, Leia cleared one end of the table and began sorting through the collection of jewels methodically. They were all sizeable, the smallest ones about the size of her thumbnail, which made the process a little easier.

"Having difficulty?" She looked up and made a face at her father. "It used to take me a while, too. Once, I spent two days in the Crystal Caverns, trying to find the right piece of crystal." He put his hands on her shoulders gently. "Relax, sweetheart. You have an image?" She nodded. "Focus on it, and call the stone."

Leia closed her eyes and, with a deep breath, fed a tendril of energy into the jewel in her mind's eye. After a moment, it seemed to hook on something. A tentative tug confirmed the impression, so she pulled harder. She could hear a few gems tumble off the pile and bounce to the tabletop.

"That's it," Anakin encouraged. "Again." This time she used a thicker strand of Force-energy. It snagged a second time, and the princess hauled on the link. A Rattle told her that the heap was shifting; she opened her eyes to witness a small shower of stones,one of them shooting out to roll as far as her hands on the table's edge. Picking the crystal up revealed a flash of color that took her breath away.

"This is it, Daddy," she whispered, turning to hug him.

"I knew you could do it, Princess." With a final grin at her father, Leia hurried off to find the other components she would need for her lightsaber. She could barely wait to get started.


End file.
